What does the above picture have to do with the title “Writing and Writers Block”? Absolutely everything and absolutely nothing. Let me explain. You see I am an aspiring writer who challenged himself to write a novella in 26 weeks. It was supposed to be posted on my Blog twice a week, Tuesday and Friday. But I have yet to post a single word.
I envisioned the path before me not unlike a hunter tracking his prey after a fresh snow. The path before me was set, was clear, and was visibly within reach. As I boarded the train that is my mind and awaited to depart down its singular track towards the 26 week terminus, I failed to notice the train conductor holding us in station. You see there were a few late arriving passengers that needed to board. Mrs. Self-Doubt, Write R. Block, Sir Second Thought, and the final horseman, Madame Fear – all inconspicuously slipped onto my train. We departed.
As we exited the tunnel and burst into the world, I began to get comfortable, ready to write. My iPod was fully charged and playing AC/DC, cell phone on with Facebook at the ready, we rapidly approached the first station. Mrs. Self-doubt went to work. I sensed her imminence out of the left temporal lobe. The low hum not unlike that of a swarm of locust approaching over the horizon. As my mental focus began to wane, doubt began her crescendo. Was the story good enough? Was the idea, the theme, the plot? Was I worthy of complementing the life of the tree that sacrificed so much and laid before me transformed? Whistle Blows – doors close – I snap back to the task at hand. Doubt had detrained.
Pulling out of the station Sir Second Thought noticed Doubt was exposed to the impending storm she created and feverishly attempted to distract the engineer. His attempts only succeeded in us being switched onto a different track. Double back track had less stops than original track but with the constant backtracking, forward progress was slow at best. Sensing the extra time and thus an opportunity Write R. Block immediately got to work creating barriers and obstacles. He was union. No engine that could, would, or should work this hard in his book. Phoning ahead, his henchmen sprang to action. Negotiations, Talks, Strikes, and Walk-outs began happening at a rapid clip.
Madame Fear began her ingress stirred up by the commotion in the prefrontal cortex. Anticipating her arrival the prelimbic cortex in cohorts with medial cortex began to usher my remaining Brain-Derived Neurotrophic Factor passengers to the rear of the train. As their numbers increased in the base, the relentless acceleration of my declination against exasperation continued forthwith uninhibited. PAUSE.
Enter Sue Ellen – skipping, hopping, singing. Santa is making a list and checking it twice, trying to figure out who’s naughty or nice. Flash Forward…Clarity…. If the ultimate writer – think about it – can make a list, check it twice and deliver three billion packages in a single night. Why am i fretting. As Sue Ellen passed me she dropped an envelope merely marked with one word. HOPE. The piece of paper inside addressed to me. As I progressed down the list, the storm front building in my mind began to clear. The thoughts began to flow. I was back on track and the fiends of derailment was left at the switch back to serve sentences in the deepest darkest regions of my mind.
Their presence has inured against the rigors of writing. 26 weeks is running late but back on track. The creative people have decided on a name change to capitalize on this unfortunate turn of events. See you all there.
If Santa can write over 3 billion words (names) and check it twice. I surely can put pen to paper and generate 50,000. what say Ye? Join me on my journey.