You don’t really want to know where I’ve been for the past month, do you?
Well, maybe one or two of you do.
By and large, I have been here, sitting on my ass, staring at one line written on a blank page. For weeks. There is a term for this: Writer’s Block.
This has been tremendously humbling, and above all, depressing. After nearly a year of churning out stuff on demand for the Video Game Project, to suddenly be faced with my own inadequacy has been brutal, to say the least. Not even my usual solution, to watch episodes of the Jeremy Brett Sherlock Holmes, has worked to soothe the hurt.
It’s like this: I was asked to write a touring show by a local theater, a show about a pernicious social ill (somewhere in there, I seem to have moved from writing about knife-weilding zombies to being the Social Ills Writer. Don’t ask me how that happened). “So,” I asked. “What shape do you see this show taking?” “oh, we don’t know,” was the reply. “We’re sure you’ll come up with something. We just want it to be entertaining, and interesting.”
I wrestled with that a long time. Finally handed in the first ten pages of a script that made a social ill entertaining and interesting. The response, almost predictably, was, “This wasn’t what we had in mind at all.”
The things that leap to mind are many, including the obvious If you knew what you wanted, why didn’t you tell me? I then attempted to fulfill their needs, and have found myself staring at that one line for hours on end, as I realize over and over again that one of the major reasons I don’t own a gun is because I lack the strength to resist the urge to blow my own brains out.
There has been a slight alleviation in this gloom, as it has been decided that I will meet with a Panel of Concerned Experts, which means I will once more be writing by committee, but at least I will by God leave that first meeting with an actual idea of what is needed.
That job at Fry’s is looking better and better every day.
And that, gloomy and demeaning as it is, is where I’ve been. Except for one bright weekend, where I got to hang with my b-movie brethern. Ken has written about it far more eloquently than I could at this point, so I’ll just direct you there.
Oh, and I pulled my head out enough to review the movie Constantine. I think the movie deserves more than the few lines I scrawled about it, but hey: I got something written. Two somethings, now.
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drfreex.com 
So can you show us the line you’ve been staring at?
I’ve had writer’s block for about five years now, so when you mention you may be suffering, I had one of those sympathetic OhMyGod type pangs.Hope the Syndrome passes for you….
Bah. Still don’t believe in this “writer’s block” thing.Unaddressed qualms, yes. Hypercritical interior editor, of course. General systemic fatigue, certainly. Disinterest? Goes without saying.But “writer’s block,” a mysterious creative cessation common only to writers? Bah. Can’t convince me.(That’s sure to win me some friends, I know.)
With luck you’ll never encounter it, Nathan. It’s utterly unlike any other type of creative short-circuiting.
Er, Constantine <>is<> available in a double disc set….
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I wish the *spammers* would get writer’s block…
How could the spammers get writer’s block, if it doesn’t really exist!Ha ha, I’ve run rings round your logic!
Ho, ho, silly me, thinking my mere blog entry could engender such a storm of comments.Chasm, you’re absolutely correct about the 2 disc version. I must amend that. Tomorrow.
Fine, BC. I wish the spammers would be crippled by the illusion of the existence of writer’s block.My rhetoric runs rings around yourn ring-running!
Fine. Can I have some illusory prozac to get my phantasmal life back in gear?
One ring to bring them all, and in the darkness, buy them.
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