Writer’s Block
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I see the Moon to my right. The Crab Nebula to the left. The Pythagorean brotherhood are standing together straight up ahead. Many other interesting ideas are scattered around as well. Where should I go?
As I try to decide, I notice a block placed right in the middle. A rather unimpressive block, it has no color or real texture. It is just a little more than half my height. Something about it doesn’t feel right. I feel like it is watching me.
I take a step towards the Crab Nebula and the block slides down and parks itself in my way. Confused, I turn towards the Moon. The block follows me again. I see what’s happening here. It is not going to let me to go to any of the stories. Wherever I try to go, it will block my path.
I try to trick it by pretending to walk away before turning around and running at full speed. It worked, the block was caught off guard. I’m filled with happiness as I see a destination in sight. And then I am knocked down to the ground.
A cheap shot. The block had just tripped me over. I lay disoriented on the ground for a few moments. When I looked up at the block, I noticed that it had gotten a little bigger.
It just sat there. Smug and arrogant. It didn’t even bother to position itself between me and the stories anymore. The block knew, that no matter what direction I headed in, it could catch up to me and knock me down.
A few months passed. I had made no progress. I’d heard of this block before. I didn’t think it was real. But here it was. Even as it stood in my way, I thought it could be a figment of my imagination. Eventually, it felt real enough that I began talking to it.
I tried to reason with the block. I tried to explain that it had been a while since I published something. It didn’t care. It grew bigger.
Frustration took over me. I started banging my hands against the block and yelling at it. It didn’t move. I could almost hear it laughing at me. And then it got bigger again.
I thought to myself, I should probably pick a different topic. These rough drafts have been around forever. The block probably wants me to work on something new. I sat down with my back against the block and started to brainstorm.
The uncomfortable feeling of urgency, the restless need to create something and thoughts of taking shortcuts. The block must have sensed all of this because yet again, it grew.
I stood up and faced the block. “I give up. I don’t care anymore.” I said. It got bigger. “Grow as big as you want. It really doesn’t matter to me.”
To prove my point, I took out the pen sleeping in my pocket to the throw it at the block. But as my hand was in the air, I paused for a second. A thought came to me. A moment of insight. I stood still and looked at the block. “I will write about you.”
And then it happened. For the first time ever, it started to shrink. Excited, I began to write the story in my head almost immediately. It was all clear until I thought to myself that many people would have already written about this block. What could I say that was different? What would people think of it? As these thoughts got louder, the block started to grow. No, I was not going to let that happen again.
So I stood in front of the giant block which was only half my height at one point. I placed the pen on its surface and started to write. As words became sentences and sentences became paragraphs, the block got smaller.
Not too long after, it was smaller than me again. I placed my pen on top of the block and walked past it. It didn’t move this time. It just sat there like a non living thing.
I turn towards the stories. I see the Moon on my right, the Crab Nebula on my left. A bunch of new stories have shown up as well.
I think I know where to go.
