January 28, 2011
Posted by on
Last week Adam told us what he goes through when he is stressed. It was a fun little look into his funny little brain. My companion post to that is about what I do when I have writer’s block. It seems odd that the few times I actually end up blogging these days are often fraught with anxiety on my part, but the reality is I generally open a post and stare at the screen for a good twenty minutes before I can even get word one down on the page. How do I get myself to overcome this painful weekly occurrence?
If you hadn’t noticed, I have a tendency to do a bunch of posts about funny videos I find on the web. Naturally these seems like the best starting place, but it is not always the easiest resource to use. Weirdly enough typing the words funny video do not always result in funny videos. And posts with these videos are not always funny.
This is usually my second line of attack mainly because there is soooooooo much reading involved. I love words, but when you are trying to just get the damn post written they can be cumbersome. On the flip side, I also end up falling into a wiki-hole and reading about things that I absolutely will never write about on the blog. I have a very strong feeling that very few of you would appreciate reading about the many wives of Henry VIII or the names, states, and occupations of all the signers of the Declaration of Independence. In retrospect, I find that this site usually causes me to not get the post done, but could help me with any future plans to get a PhD in History.
Many great writers are alcoholics. I aspire to be just like them. That is why I drink. The stress of not knowing what to write is alleviated by the cool fresh quaff of gin and then the stuff causes my brain to get all lubed up. My lubed up brain is then more willing and able to write about anything at all. It is also more likely to doze off, which is why this post is getting written in the wee hours of the morning.
The last resort and often the most fruitful is to just start beating myself up. The thing I know the most about is myself and the thing I’m most critical of is myself (well except for when I’m being critical of Adam). I am an endless fount of Woody Allen-esque stories about how much I suck, which says tons about my self-esteem. However, these stories are often the most entertaining. Hating yourself never was as helpful.
Now you know what I go through to get through a post. The magic is gone, but that doesn’t mean our relationship must come to an end. Tell me what you do when you can’t put thought to page. Do you do handstands to make all the blood rush to your head? Do you make random phone calls to old friends hoping that they have something fun you can use without anyone realizing?