I've been suffering from severe Writers Block for the past... twelve months. I am typically an extremely prolific writer, of opinion pieces, poetry, and songs. But for about a year now, I seem to have been irrepressibly stopped up.
I've been happy though. Well, for the most part. I wonder if that's part of it, if my creativity comes from a place of angst and pain.
Nope, I reject that totally. Not because it's unlikely, but because I refuse to accept it to be true. Pain can not be the only impetus for beauty and art. So there.
And herein you see a great deal of the reason for my Writer's Block. Indecision. I've been having difficulty focusing on one path or option lately, and in trusting that the decision I've made is the right one. Maybe that's what all creative people go through when the muse abandons them. Fear.
Fear of what, exactly? A myriad of things. Mediocrity, inpropriety, tactlessness. But mostly mediocrity. The idea that making an impact on the world, creating something so unique and so wonderful that they will be talked of years after they die, that all of that was nothing more than a dream.
Ironic, I think, that allowing that fear to take control is what makes it a reality.