Member-only story
The Curse Of Writer’s Block
I’ve been sitting here, staring at this page for the best part of half an hour. It’s late, and I’m tired, and my eyes are bleary, so it’s a really good thing that I can touch type, because otherwise, who knows what sort of jibberish you might be about to read.
CURSED
The thing is, that being a writer comes with this curse. At least seven times a week, I am struck down; frozen, by the sight of a blank page. As writers, we are a slave to our art. Our brains don’t always agree with our need to write: to create, and these times (for me, at least) are absolute hell.
Imagine you have all these ideas and thoughts spinning and spiralling around in your brain, and you can’t find the way to get them out of your head, because the one thing that you’re supposed to be able to do; the only thing you’re good at, deserts you.
THE EMPTY PAGE IS SCARY
That empty page is freaking scary! It holds so much promise and potential, and with it, comes a hefty dose of fear: fear that you will mess it up; fear that you’re not good enough; fear that, once on the page, these words that sound so good inside your head, won’t seem anywhere near as good.
