I didn’t realize that the phenomenon of writer’s block could last so long. Is it a result of lack of practice, or focused attention on other matters? Or, have I run out of ideas altogether? It’s a bit of a confusing place, Writing World is. Yet it wasn’t always that way.
Let’s see… It truly all began in 6th grade when I discovered the greatest thing I could have ever imagined: expressing myself and my thoughts on paper. I’d scribble away with my #2 for the entire allotted journaling period in Language Arts class. So much so that I requested a second journal to continue my detailed accounts of what happened at school that day, what was happening after school that day, and other such gossip prone to pre-teens in the 90s. The fire was lit, and burning.
I continued journaling diligently throughout middle and high school, using it as my number one outlet for expressing myself. I confided relentlessly, pouring my heart out onto the pages, and filling up several journals each year with my daily thoughts, pleading outcries, opinionated rants, deep feelings, and dark secrets.
As an English major in college, my writing improved over the semesters, from my introductory English course through my senior seminar where I composed papers that I felt pushed boundaries. But nowadays, I sometimes find that writing plain and simply doesn’t come as easily to me anymore. The difference? Practice, I suppose. Lack thereof?
Two years ago, I began to sift through the journals that I had completed over the years. I re-read pages of my previous self, a person filled with such strong emotion, heartache, naivety. I wanted to start fresh, to literally turn a new leaf and leave the images of my previous self behind for good. So I burned the books in a fire.
Did I also burn away a part of myself who lived and longed for written expression? Dramatic so it may be to think such a thing, I cannot help but wonder if the writer in me will someday rise from the ashes and reclaim herself.