Leviathan

Writer's block is the curse that endlessly plagues creatives – it takes many names, of course: endless pseudonyms that all lead back to that root fog that settles over the minds of the artist. And always, always, it is frustration incarnate. Whether it be the refusal of words or brushstrokes to come forth from their hidden box in the back of one's head, no matter the coaxing, this vexing phenomena (which we shall call writer's block, for simplicity and self-indulgence) never fails to enrage and depress.

“But just yesterday I was so excited, so creative!” you may cry, “Ready was I to unleash my potential upon the world, so unfortunate without my genius.” And yet here we are, hm? Here we are, staring inside ourselves, at the void – not malignant, probably – festering in the depths, and we feel like death would be a mercy. Maybe the fog spurs frustration, or anger, and you take to an anonymous blog to express it; or maybe it breeds aggravated sadness, stirs that depressing thought deep within your gut that no, truly, you can't ever succeed, and that you shouldn't have tried to begin with.

“Is there a solution? Might I return from this whirlpool of drab misery?” you might ask. Well, er, no. Not easily. But there are a few remedies that tend to jog the old creative engine, though it will ultimately be up to you to right yourself.

Reading helps. Yes, reading, the cliche every poor budding author is endlessly burdened with when they ask for advice; it holds weight. Reading books, old or new, (but especially new), introduces fresh ideas and revitalizes one's love for the craft – “I want to wrangle words like this!” you might resolve, rushing to tinker with your own little projects in a flurry of inspiration. Countless times when new ideas, for a current running story or a wispy one just out of my grasp, come to me, I look a little deeper and find the work of innumerable authors before me, conflated in a centrifuge flavored with my own style.

Taking a break, a walk, a shower – all have proven effective. Especially showers, and nature. The shower, indeterminably, tends to jog my own creative notions into beautiful or harshly incredible stories, writing them so plainly in my mind. The unfortunate bit is that they tend to leave before I can rush to my paper. But breaks still help: shaking oneself out of a particular mindset may help root out the weeds in one's creative garden.

And, finally, brute-force refusal to give up might just crack that block in half. Sometimes, this method fails; in fact, it often does. But if one has a good foothold, if the block is a weak one, it might be dislodged or even shattered by the building flood of emotion and ideas dammed up behind it: no longer will the roaring oceans of your limning waters be reduced to mere droplets trickling down from the cement pillar that refutes their flow.

No matter if these fail, however: time will weather everything. Life is short, yes, but sometimes not quite so short as we tend to imagine. Offer yourself respite. Give yourself time. Temporal distance may be all the space you need; a quick essay or short story that breaks the norm might just break the block with it. And, whatever way you choose to overcome this blight, know that you aren't alone in it. Thousands and thousands of others are wallowing in their own ineffectual talents as I write this, and as you read it.

The greats are only great because they persevered; untold thousands never tried. The very fact you're struggling, that you are persevering, only intimates that you are walking right alongside those like Shakespeare, and Hemingway, and any others you might idolize or adore. Best of luck in your endeavors, as always.

J.T. Schay