The memory of writing a blog post with a flint of conviction seems foggy. Timing couldn’t possibly be worse. Blame it on fate or sour creative juice. Either way, no words had been put side by side in fancifulness of an engaging and spirited blog post.
It all began with pseudo work piling up on my desk, under my nose. Intentionally denying myself a breather of verbal air- a blog rant so to speak. This phase was an excuse to stub great ideas, which could, in a perpetually digitized universe, see the light of algorithms or day as you – normal folks armed with Facebook poke – would call it.
This severe problem, like an annoying blister grown organically between the ass cheeks, was never of ideas, which, in a matter of fact way, have always been abundant, and stacked neatly, labeled and shelved in my brain’s optical briefcase, with a sign: break in case of creative block.
At the same time, for a moment it seemed, I had burned myself to the point of extinction. Writing, as a way of life, was over even before taking off. I reeked failure all over. With my face tucked tightly between crossed arms, the voices numbed. There was no one at the wheel. I was lost in a dessert of confusion plagued by frustration.
A low point ensued.
But, where there is a will, there’s a BMW M5 backed into your driveway, awaiting play.
Back? Ah! I was saying: post several futile attempts of calibrating the ideas in my mind with words, the light at the end of the tunnel began to creep its way back in. This was the point of realization- and the much awaited climax in this riddling verbal jaunt. It was a moment full of joy or in my textbook- wank-a-thon-induced-orgasms.
Here’s what I discovered, and this may help you in your moment of weakness- seconds before you give in to a boring career option- (put boring fart-less profession here).
We all, I’m assuming you too, know-
Writing, like any other profession or craft, requires loads of practice, lots more repetition, even more reading or better yet, endless reading and an eye for picking up nuances that may trigger your mind’s shorter leg.
Pun intended.
Turns out, with my colossal work load taking front row seats, I hadn’t read a book, magazine, blog post, newspaper, website copy, terms & conditions on a soap box or even the fine print of anything of anything.
Curiosity levels were as shallow as Kim Kardashian’s personality. For creative beings, this is an equivalent of a prisoner on death row multiplied by steroid-induced hysteria that makes one stab there eye incessantly.
Marlyin Mansion would know.
One fine day, the pieces began to fit the puzzle, while I was in office looking for inspiration, without ever realizing that a short book on time management (gifted by a friend) was quietly moving the floor beneath my feet. The feeling can be best described by downing 30 shots of vodka. Friendly advice: I wouldn’t try that if I were you.
On completing the book, I placed it back on the shelf, sat back in my chair, threw my feet on the table, put my hands behind my head, smiled in satisfaction and came to realize how much I missed reading.
Its close to what a good old mouth hug by the sea feels like. If you need to know what that means, you’re not old enough to be on this blog. Shoo!!
I pounced on everything in sight for the next week, like a starved cave man, who’s discovered the 7 course lunch buffet at The Leela Kempinski. Blogs, magazines (which I verbally raped from cover to cover), and this book that I’m reading now on “probability”, which is responsible for stimulating a legion of out-of-work brain cells.
Soon, it all began to come back, words connected like a relationship high on chemistry minus the boring science bit. I am now, without a doubt, a kid high on crack.
Rainbows and bunnies are back in charge. In short, reading more helps.
