As a writer, a topic typically strikes my fancy and percolates. That topic takes a life of its own, traveling with me as my day to day responsibilities and commitments are tackled while the story itself takes shape in my mind.
It ebbs and flows. It is acute and present, then fades and retreats. But all the while, it’s baking and in time, rises to meet that moment when I am ready to put pen to paper – or fingers to the keyboard, playing each letter like a piano concerto, immersed in the melody my mind orchestrates.
There is a phenomenon known as writer’s block which is defined in a number of ways. It can be a creative slowdown or the inability to produce new work. It can also be the amount of time that has passed when a writer does not write.
I write. I share thoughts, emotions and opinions, when solicited. I craft copy in my professional life. I text. I juggle a multitude of expressions that I hope will come out as I intend.
Most often, my words paint a picture of my heart – and, maybe as often, unintentionally offend or wound someone via my sarcastic, dry, self-deprecating wit. As my friend James Ezimoha taught me through our collective writing, what’s humorous to one is not humorous to all. This, I struggle with when I am usually the victim of the joke which was well-meaning and comfortable for me. Why would anyone take offense?
But what about my words of late?
Quite frankly, a concrete topic eludes me. I’m not feeling, emoting, or fired up about one particular thing – it’s a tornado that includes everything.
I’m sad because we’ve lost people dear to us recently. I’m distressed by our societal climate. I’m pissed off at our political extremists. I’m worn thin at work. I’m struggling with my eating habits. I’m baffled by my lack of desire to exercise. I’m impatient with myself for feeling that I’m not patient enough with others.
I’m confused by supposed friends and their messages. I’m questioning my responses and re-evaluating what I said, should of said or anything in between.
I’m angry at marketing folks and the suckers who buy in to their pitches.* I’m annoyed by those who assume, stereotype and bias. I’m mad that a few bad apples in each profession are showcased when there are countless others that do such good.
I look back at the woman who was compassionate, empathetic and loving to a fault and wonder – where’d she go? Has life gotten to her? Or has she grown up and seen things in a new light – maybe for what they are, or for what I now believe them to be?
I’m seeking and searching for those answers.
The reality I am faced with is this.
My mind is so tangled at present that I am unable to hone in on one particular topic to write about. There are so many. And as I watch my thoughts, they resemble a tornado, capable of uprooting the beliefs of some and hurling about the values of others. My thoughts today are capable of total destruction, because I haven’t sorted through or refined them to a point where they would be of value or benefit.
There are times in our life when we need to just be. To sit with our thoughts, feelings and emotions then let those percolate. I don’t have the full ingredients list right now.
As I wandered through antique and boutique stores with my mother this week, I was reminded of how important that is.
I was also reminded of what makes me tick – simplicity, wealth and riches as defined by art, culture and the written word as well as a nourished soul.
May I re-connect with myself and hone in on what’s important not only to me – but for all.
*I’m a marketing professional. Forgive me.