Hi friend,

I've wanted to write you again for some time now, but I've been a bit out of breath, creatively-speaking. Not because I'm exhausted from running so many marathons, but rather because I've knowingly not been running marathons, and my body—which, in this metaphor, is my mind—now feels so unused to running that I’m huffing and puffing before the end of the block. I've felt out of breath in a number of disciplines, to be certain, but writing is my core, and so that's what I'm thinking about today.

You might be thinking, “ah, yes, writer's block”—or, if you’re a regular reader, “ah, yes, depression”—but neither is quite it. As for the latter, things are bad, in many practical respects, but all's well upstairs at the moment, thanks for asking. As for the former, writer's block has never been a useful frame for me. Being blocked implies that you were moving forward, but something is now in your way. If one is genuinely motivated to create, to write, but can't quite figure out what to say or make next...well, that's just the work, you know?

No, it feels less like being blocked and more like waking up with my feet nailed to the floor. Or, less grossly: it feels like instead of writing, I am Not Writing. Because that's really it, isn't it? You're either Writing or you're Not Writing.

I can be Writing while I ride the bus, watch my shows, make my dinner. Or I can be Not Writing while I do those things, too. Actual writing requires, at certain and ideally regular points, typing up words, of course, but real writers and artists know that isn't the whole of it. If you will forgive me some cringe: Writing can be a state of mind.

As can Not Writing. Not Writing often isn't so much symptom as cause...an ouroboros, a paradox, a self-fulfilling prophecy. It's not a mere absence of an activity, but active engagement in a different non-activity. Why aren't you Writing? Because you're Not Writing, sweetie.

I'm talking to myself here, remember. So self, I want you to know: I don't say that to scold, because I know that you know. I say it in the way I might tell you that the TV isn't turning on because it's not plugged in, or that the glasses you're looking for are on top of your head. You're Not Writing because you're Not Writing.

Not Writing, like not running, makes it really hard to get going again. When I haven't been running, running is harder (duh)...my desire to quit stronger, the jarring of bones on pavement more pronounced, my breath harder to catch. My steps are less confident, and therefore slower. It’s much the same with writing.

Worse, when I haven’t been writing, but try to, if the words don’t immediately resonate I want to trash them and start over, because ACK!—gotta get something done, gotta hit Post, gotta exist! What if I don't write again for a week? A month? Ever? What if this is the last time I ever sit down and try to Say Something?

...which is just an absolutely terrible state of mind to be in if you want to produce something decent.

So here I am, feeling like so many once and future runners on a Planet Fitness treadmill on New Year's Day, trying to remember how the machine works and consigning myself to huffing and puffing in public. It’s not easy, but it’s not so unpleasant as it used to be. I used to be more self-conscious Writing about writing, but am less so now for two reasons: 1) people seem to like or at least not mind it, and 2) I know that I have to work through this feeling first before I can really get back in shape.

Okay, well, I’m out breath! How long was that? 5 miles, surely…right? Oh god. Oh god it’s only been 10 minutes.

Hope you're well, friend; shit's wild out there these days. As ever, let me know if I can help with anything.

Until next time,
Scott

http://www.scottkubie.com