Missed me?

Writer’s Block is a real thing

Since I last wrote here on my Blog page, I have learned a thing or three about Writer’s Block. What I share below relates to my own personal experience and that is the only domain where I am the expert. My discoveries may not be relevant to anyone else, but I feel my own recovery depends on my ability to share.

I am especially interested in the discoveries about what Writer’s Block IS NOT.

It is not laziness. I have seen that accusation made as a comment more than once when some other writer has dared to share their difficulties on one of the many writer’s facebook groups I am following.
While I have been unable to write here or on my prayer Blog, that hasn’t been because I have been sitting idle. I have been researching and reading and spending lots of time talking with God and with my friends about what was stopping me from writing here.

Nor is it having nothing to say. I have learned so much and there were so many times when I sat down and opened the form to start writing. I even have three unfinished half-written posts waiting for me to pick up the thread and bring them to a conclusion.

It destroys my self-confidence and undermines my self-esteem.

It leaves me thinking that it doesn’t matter if I don’t share about what is happening, and persuades me that by the time I get past this thing that keeps me from writing here on my page, there won’t be anyone interested in what I have to say…

Yesterday, a wise person listened to a passing comment and then contacted me later. They wanted me to go back to a familiar parable that Jesus told, and to consider what God was saying:
To read the whole story for yourself, follow this link:

The key message the wise person wanted me to look at was this verse: To one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one; to each according to his own ability (15) .

I sat up and paid attention. The wise person suggested God had given me many talents and I should get on with the job of using them. If I sit and look at this empty page, I am no better than the man in the story, who dug a hole and buried his talent.

As a writer, I can imagine the day to day torture for that servant. The knowledge that the treasure was hidden in the ground would have played on his mind. There was always the risk that someone might find it and steal it. His fear was so great that he was blind to any other possibility. His fear kept him from succeeding and became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Because he was unable to use the talent, it was taken away and given to someone else who already had more.

The first step to recovery is identifying the problem, and reflecting on that. My fear is like a double-sided coin. On one side is the possibility that someone (or a few someones) will like what I write and expect me to write more, and on the other side is the possibility that no-one will ever read what I write.

Today I am writing for an audience of One. I am writing because He has told me that I have something to say, and He is interested in seeing how I express myself on the page.

If anyone else reads the words, that’s a bonus )i(