I hate it when my site shows up blank as if my entire life is one big blank, which obviously it isnt, but then a burnout never is a blank, is it? It's got more to do with pushing oneself so far that one little whoosh and the little flame just goes off ever so easily.
Writer's block, burnouts, and the like are not excuses. It's as if my brain is all wooly, little tendrils of nothingness weaving tight little knots of terrible stillness. It's a dreary existence when I can't pen my thoughts, when I am so exhausted mentally that all I want to do is curl up in my bed and let stagnation comfort me in her soft arms.
But life doesn't stop. The daily grind keeps me busy through the day and yet the feeling of not being in touch with the other realms hiding in my mind makes me feel out of synch, like a duck nostalgically staring at the dried up pond.
Days are blending into one big gigantic happy gooey sundae. There is sunshine and happiness, and yet I miss the other worlds that I now live in only in my dreams and yet find myself unable to put down in words.
What happened? What malady am I suffering from? Blank like a dumb bimbo unable to express herself and yet I dream fantastic, extraordinarily dark dreams.
Death, gore, people gone crazy, dreams colored with a rage of unimaginable proportion that have me waking up with a pounding heart and heaving breath, hoping and praying that none would come true as some dreams have seen the hues of reality and yet others have seen light in words written by me.
But now the dreams dont find their way to paper. They sneer at my attempts and retreat to the subconsious where I fight the demons, the inhuman vices of hatred, genocide, and death.
What is my mind trying to tell me? Is it time to write the reality I am trying my best to deny? The cruelty I see on the road, the poverty, the abuse of human and animal alike? Do I tear away the veneer of indifference I have managed to build between me and those who suffer and plunge into their suffering world by virtue of a writer's gift of empathy?
It's like being caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. What do I choose — the void of indifference or the vortex of grim reality?
Article comments
1 - John Spivey
You pose interesting questions. As to your last question, I would suggest another alternative--compassion. For me compassion exists simultaneously as both a dispassionate observation of the whole panorama, yet at the same time being part of the mix. I can watch the whole painful scenario around me and feel great sadness, but I don't have to sacrifice my life to validate the suffering of humanity. It seems better to me as a writer and human being to explore the ways to go beyond suffering and provide an alternative, rather than rehash the same old stuff. Indifference and immersion in grim reality are opposite sides of the same coin. I hope this is of some use.
js
2 - cat
Don't have any advice to offer, just think this is a fantastic article on the topic of writer's block/burnout.
3 - Deepti Lamba
John, thanks for the insights:) You are right when you say that its compassion that moves us from the inertia of feeling powerless to becoming empowered.
Cat, thanks for the encouragement:)
4 - diana hartman
I am pleased to tell you this article is being featured in the Culture Focus today, August 23.
Diana Hartman
Culture Editor