On Not Writing
On Not Writing
Anyone who writes regularly, whether for work or hobby or sanity or some combination of the three, knows the inner agony that accompanies dry spells. This has been my life for nearly a month now. While talking to a friend and fellow writer about this recently, she reminded me of the dramatic ways Hemingway dealt with writer’s block. I get it.
But I’m not just talking about conventional writer’s block, the temporary inability to think of ideas worth writing about or to channel great ideas into words on a page.
I’m talking about the mind-dulling experience of having all the time in the world, but no schedule, no routine, no clearly defined writing time, oh yes, and no childcare for the summer–all things requisite for writing to be possible, at least for me. I have actually sat before my computer to write and thought to myself, “Why bother? You’ll write for five minutes and someone will call your name and need you for something.” This experience has been, perhaps, the closest I’ve come to being tied and bound.
So, with this post, I’m putting an end to my listlessness and a late summer bout of not writing and welcoming in a new season of weather and words.
I fell behind with my Summer Reading discussion, but I will be creating a new one for the fall that will include more contemporary drama, including plays by Caryl Churchill, Paula Vogel, and Sarah Ruhl, in addition to some older works by Shakespeare, Aphra Behn, and Thomas Otway.
I also plan to showcase theatre in my own state of Florida by posting more reviews and highlighting companies and venues throughout the state. I have come to realize after eight years of living here that I have not given theatre in this state a fair chance, and the loss is all my own. Time to change that.
And, of course, I will offer up more of my musings on the dramatic nature of life, death, politics, parenting, and more.