“Just like riding a bike,” they say. “Begin again, anywhere, don’t over-think, jump on, let go, and you’ll remember.”
What they actually mean is “Stop procrastinating, get out of your writer’s funk, no choking, and no more excuses!”
And who are “they?”
Just the nagging voices in my head. The nay-saying, cyber-destructive, accusatory, scary little negative pieces of doubt that once again have brought me to a big black screeching halt in creativity.
And so, if this is a battle between “me” and “me” – one perfectly logical, if befuddled, and one steeped in nonsensical fear – how do I proceed? I’m guessing and hoping at this point that there might be, must be, yet another dimension of “me” that needs to and can intercede and yell STOP!
So what, if I don’t write one scintillating sentence? What harm if I babble and forget the primary rule – Cut, Cut, Cut? Why dither about form and function? Or be stymied when eluded by (gulp) a brilliant turn of phrase.
At first glance it might seem that the logical “me” would be represented by adult Diane and the fear-based nonsense would come from my child. But not so. When I think of the analogy I began with, I immediately remember my child-self who knew no fear on roller skates (never mind a bike), flying down the sidewalk, clickety-click, backwards figure eighting in the alley, racing with glee, soaring unafraid and free.
This blasted anomaly, this Writers Block which descends with withering fear from time to time, is stupid and unnecessary. And definitely part of adult Diane. I know that. But oh so difficult to break through.
I happened to click on the Lake Region Writer’s Network Facebook page today and this was the first thing I stumbled upon – “If I waited for perfection I would never write a word.”
Thank you, Margaret Atwood. Little Diane is strapping on her skates, racing forward, tucking the skate key into her pocket.