Creative Blocks-I Feel Them Part II

To unblock myself I took up the challenge of writing one blog post a day for a write.  I found 365 prompts on the web.  I was doing pretty well.  Then I ran into Team Melissa and that whole debacle-I will write more on this in another post.  I didn’t post for about 2 months.  Now that I am free of Team Melissa I have taken up the challenge again.

While it may be put aside if I go to summer school in England-I know myself and get caught up in new adventures and hanging out at Cambridge would be so cool, for now it is a priority.

Often as I write I am dissatisfied with the output-not the quantity but the quality.  So, I get up and walk away disgusted.  I attempt to write on another project, but the results are almost always the same.  I have been working to turn this to an advantage.

Instead of keeping at the piece until I ready to throw it in the trash, I stop as soon as I begin to grow frustrated.  I try to jump into another piece I have been working on.  I work on that until the frustration builds and move again.  So far it hasn’t been as cathartic as I hoped.  But it keeps me moving which is something, even if the movement is more sideways than forward.

Enhanced by Zemanta

Creative Blocks-I Feel Them

I often feel blocked.  Not because I do not have the words, but because I am sure where to begin, or what to do when I finish.  What it is not any good?  What if it is hackneyed and craptastic writing?  How do I develop characters, so they are not card board cutouts?  How do I write sharper dialogue and more concise descriptions?  How do I get what I envision in my head unto the page?

The writing never seems good enough once I begin.  I fret over its inadequacies and push it away.  I move on to other projects.  Yet the questions remain.  Soon I grow anxious.  When I get anxious I eat.  I have struggled with this for years.  I can’t control or stop the eating.  I have taken to working with it.  I buy fruits and salads and give myself permission to eat them.  Of course I eat it all.  As a consequence I feel guilty for lack of self control.  I eat when I feel guilty too. (On the plus side I work in restaurants and my constant eating has lead to the creation of some wonderful foods).

Enhanced by Zemanta

What Challenges My Creativity?

Besides life and second jobs?  Nothing else really…except myself.  The voice of doubt is forever going off in my head.  Anxiousness.  When this strikes I can’t sit still and I make a bazillion trips to the fridge.  I walk aimlessly around the house.  I channel surf and on the plus side I begin to clean my rather messy house.  I even do dishes, but I just never seem to get to the bathroom.

Another problem is the amount of time I use trying to write a paragraph.  I can use an hour.  Then I get frustrated that I could have been doing something else.  Then I get frustrated that is whole writing thing is a farce, and that maybe I should move on and forget it.  And it all sort of spirals away from me.  I will spend more time reeling it back together, before sitting down and picking up a pen.

I have recently begun thinking about a potential problem, well problems.  How do I know I am done?  Where do I send my finished stories?  What format do I use?  Where do I find the answer to this question?

Naps.  I love my naps.  I have been working on writing  for a couple of hours, then napping, then getting up and begin writing again.  I am much better at this.

Embarrassment.  I have returned to my hometown and I find I don’t feel comfortable sharing my writing with anyone here.  I feel out of place here.  I have always felt out of place here.  It is one of many reasons I moved away (I should write them all down and see how many there are).  I feel embarrassed to share what I have written.  I am embarrassed to find how critical I consider others. and the situation I have found here.  I am embarrassed how little I have accomplished in writing.  I have begun 20 stories at least, yet I have to finish one.

Feeling trapped.  i feel trapped here.  I feel trapped by money.  I feel trapped by lack of activities here.  I feel trapped by lack of friends.  I feel trapped by not blending in.  I feel I can’t go out to eat alone, or to the movies alone, or to the small events this place has, alone.  I feel trapped by that.  I feel trapped that all I can think about is leaving.  And I feel trapped that I have an obligation to my father.  Of course most responsibility leaves me feeling trapped.  Though I don’t feel trapped by making this commitment to writing-in fact it is freeing.  I feel trapped by life here.

Alone.  I have been alone a long time.  Yet until I moved back here I never felt loneliness.  It leaves me scared and full of despair.  It makes me question if I have made the right decisions.  I know when I travel every aspect of life feels right.  I know living in Portland feels right.  Almost nothing about here feels right.  Only looking after my father feels right; and I still feel trapped by that, which in turn leaves me feeling guilty.

Despair.  I despair that I am stuck in this town until I die.  While this town is great to raise a family, and is fairly safe-hell i still leave my front door unlocked and windows unbarred-it is no place for me.  Yet I keep coming back to my father.  For I despair to leave him here without family.  There is no lesser of two despairs.  He is in his 70’s and is a big rambling house and while he is the absent minded professor-by type and literally-I believe it to getting worse.  But I am not sure, if it this is true.  Perhaps I am seeing what is not really there.  My grandfather on my mother’s side suffered Alzheimer’s and I was one of the first to give voice to this fact.  Of course I was young and dismissed.  Now I see similar things but not as severe as my grandfather. My dad has always been forgetful.  I am not sure what to do, or say, or should I say anything.  While our relationship is fairly good these days, it wasn’t always.  I have never been his favorite son, that distinction goes to my brother.  But he is on the coast, with a family, and new job, and isn’t here.  My brother’s and I’s relationship has been rocky too.  I am still peeved that he didn’t answer my pleas for help.  I more or less insisted that he move here to help dad.  That way I could move away and travel the world.  It might have been selfish but I know if I travel everything will feel right again.  And maybe in that rightness, the answer will come to me.

I am sure I have other blocks to creativity.  I am sure I will touch upon all of this again.  In fact I have been writing about the second job, and the situation with my dad.  All I want at this point is  to leave here.  And the guilt of that desire is crushing my soul.

Enhanced by Zemanta

Been Gone Too Long

I have run into the life when it comes to my writing.  I have been on the road for the Holiday.  And I have gotten a second job.

A stitched panorama of downtown Portland, OR a...

Image via Wikipedia

It was good to head up to Chicago and see family.  My brother came in from Portland with his family.  His daughter Emma is growing up so fast.  She is lovely and has such bright, curious eyes.  I wish I had taken pictures.  I brought my camera but I didn’t take one picture.

As for the second job it has been kicking my ass.  I have been getting up super early-for me-heading in for 7 or 8 hours of almost continuous work.  There is almost no down time or those moments when I can catch my breath.  Even when I owned my own place I had those moments.  Couple that with my second job which I can work until 11 or 12 at night, it has been tiring.  And I have given up trying to write.  Unfortunately.

I have come to enjoy writing on the prompts.  In face I was getting ready to expand beyond the prompts.  But then the job happened.

The plan originally was to get this job and learn all I could about catering.  In my own place I thought we could have done better in the catering operation.  I have discovered I haven’t learned much.  It isn’t fun, even thought there is talk of having fun.  My body hurts as there are no floor mats.  I am not walking everyday, as I use to.  Some days I don;t get my small 15 minute breaks or I only get one of two.  In addition there is a lady who is setting me up for failure and is accusing me of being drunk at work.  I get thrown in to doing jobs with little or no training.  As for being drunk I am not.  I am allergic to caffeine but I need to drink it to be up at 4:30 or 5:30 or 6 in the morning.  The way it affects me is to make me unsteady on my feet.  It seems strange but it is true.  Until I went to the doctor I thought I had MS.  After the tests this is what the doctor came up with.  It is rare but thankfully is treatable.  Don’t drink caffeine.  Anyway this job seems to have cost more than it is worth.  I plan to work this second job until the end of the year and then walk away.

On the writing front I have many prompts I wrote before getting this job and going to Chicago.  My plan is to post these and write on new prompts on days when I can.  I need to write more than I need to learn nothing.

Enhanced by Zemanta