Writing as A Cure for Writer’s Block

     I don’t know what to write. I keep saying I’m going to write
more, but I just don’t know what to write. Is my life really that boring?
Surely there’s something. But I don’t want to complain about trivialities.


     Nothing major has happened to me. I’ve never had my heart
broken or lost a loved one. The things that I find unfair seem silly compared
to the trauma some people face, and I feel selfish and petty going on about
them. Nothing even springs to mind right now, because nothing has been
significant.
I lost my grandfather when I was four, but I scarcely
remember it, though I do remember him. I got glandular fever for about a year,
but it’s not even life threatening. That’s about it. I guess I’ve had a pretty
good life in that respect.

    But I’m struggling for inspiration right now. I’ve spent the
last month at home, since finishing university for the summer. I can’t get a
job because of this terrible job market, and me and my friends are too skint to
do any particularly exciting. So I’m left with my own thoughts and the
internet. I guess there are parts of the internet that could be inspiring, but
I can’t stop watching TV shows and films. I’m travelling a bit in the next few
months, so maybe that will help.

     It’s just really frustrating, wanting to write, but being
blocked. I guess this sort of helps – writing about being blocked, in an
attempt to get unblocked. Although, now I think on it, I guess I’m writing
right now to justify my lack of writing, seeing as how I said I was going to do
more.

    I’ve not even done much on my other stories, but I think
that’s more because I’m just lazy. Although it’s not like I’ve sat on my arse
doing nothing – I’ve had odd bits of work, cleaned out my room, met up with
some friends. Just nothing that made me want to write about it.


     And I feel like I should write about experiences I’ve had.
It’s all very well seeing something in a film or reading about it in a book,
and that affecting you, but it’s not the same as experiencing it for real. The
writing wouldn’t be as real or honest when you’re writing about something that
happened to someone else. I guess I’m still only eighteen, and I have time to
experience more things, both good and bad, that could be inspiring. For now, I’ll
just have to try to draw on what I have seen and done, and use a lot more
imagination to flesh it out.

    I guess that’s another aspect of writing. Real experiences
provide inspiration, but that doesn’t mean you have to stick to them. I’m
always day-dreaming and hoping for things to happen, so I could try writing
about those more. Just because nothing incredible is happening in my real world
right now, doesn’t mean it can’t in my head.

     Ok, now I’m just getting really pissed off with myself. I
just keep writing about writing, and never actually doing what I say I’m going
to do. My willpower seriously sucks sometimes. Well, most of the time. Maybe I
need to decide to write at a certain time every day, after tea or something,
and force myself to do it more. Just write about anything, except about wanting
to write more, because that seems to be all I’m capable of doing right now.
Hence, frustration at self. I’m going round in circles, getting nowhere, and I
really need to stop making excuses for it.

    Right, I’m finished with this for just now. I’m going to go
write about something – ANYTHING – else.

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