Poking Writer's Block in the Eye

In the midst of an attack of writer's block so bad I want to throw a brick at the wall, I've stumbled across an article I wrote last semester for my school newspaper. This part made me smile:

And so, as the realization of only one final week of school blazed through, the first natural thought I had was, Free time! For writing! I love the thought of having time to sit and crank out a new chapter, and if writer's block hits, there's always chocolate, so I'm quite prepared to battle it out.

It's funny, now that I think on it. I've craved relaxation and time to lie back on my couch and stare at the ceiling, and writing definitely won't bring me this. Sitting down to write a chapter--a measly two thousand words--can turn into an entire afternoon, my neck cramping as I stare at the computer screen and choke out sentence by sentence. I get up, pace in circles, stomp until my neighbors complain, or go read Jane Eyre for the hundredth time.

Rarely, very rarely, I feel myself nod and sigh as I type a sentence, and I know that that moment is one I'll never have to change. It's really just all a muddle there in my head; it takes shaping and sweat to pull it out and polish it. Sometimes, I get up and cheer. It's silly, but I do it, and then I feel so electrified as to put on a superhero cape and save the world.


This is nice for me to look back on when I'm sweating and biting my tongue until it hurts, when everything I write turns to mush, when writing a paragraph is as painful as pulling teeth, when chocolate won't sway my creative juices, when I find I've been sitting at my computer for an hour and have done nothing but play solitaire, when I can't stand the story I used to be so excited to write, when there just isn't an available brick to throw. Remembering that nod and sigh when something flows through my cramped, unwilling fingers makes me smile, and I wonder, a little, if that one triumph isn't worth every moment of frustration.