wee bee recently went through a spurt of phenomenal writing energy, followed by a stiff plummet into the grave that is dead writers everywhere. she became very depressed quickly, as she does whenever she battles a bout of writer’s block. one evening, she decided not to go out with boyfriend and company so that she could have some alone time to write. she figured she would be able to squeak out something if she turned everything off and sat with her stories and that she’d magically have more words popping into her brain as they usually do, bugging her even out of sleep, but nothing happened. she sat for hours staring at her computer, re-reading the ending to her first completed novel which she decided a while back to change, and instead of being able to continue the new ending, merely became enraged at a few less-perfect passages. she created nothing new. she could think of no blogs, nor any words for any projects she previously worked tirelessly on. boyfriend came home and asked what was the matter with her and she replied she was aggravated and going to take a bath. she then proceeded to sit in the bathtub with her head on her knees for three hours repeating to boyfriend that she was miserable, just miserable.
such is the course of events during writer’s block.
as the days and weeks dragged on, she tried numerous things. finally she told boyfriend to tell her his worst war stories so that she had to write to get the images out of her head. this became a turning point for wee bee. although at first, she merely had some awful images in her head, boyfriend’s stories began taking more concrete shape in her head. wee bee has wanted to write boyfriend’s stories from his OIF/OEF days for a while, but now the novel really began to form. still, forming or not, she still was not writing.
then a glorious thing happened. wee bee is not sure what it was, maybe she just needed a burst of confidence, but she had a short story she’d submitted a while back accepted for publication. that very night, she wrote from 9pm into the wee hours of the morning, working on boyfriend’s story.
a little while back, wee bee signed up for nanowrimo. although she has been lackadaisical about pursuing the 50k word goal by the end of the month, she went ahead and searched for groups in her area. she found one right away that was meeting at a barnes & noble cafe in the neighboring town and declared she wanted to go. she figured it might help her to be around other writers, even if she didn’t pursue the full nanowrimo experience. then the morning came when she was supposed to go meet the group. at first when boyfriend woke her up, she outright refused to go. but boyfriend kept at it, asking her why not and encouraging her to go. though she was extremely nervous about going and meeting new people alone for the first time since moving to the south, she finally agreed and got herself moving. it was the best thing she could have done.
since moving here, wee bee has felt largely out of place. she hasn’t found her groove. and although only two other people were able to show up for the group writing session this morning, they were writers, and she felt very at ease quickly. wee bee had forgotten that writers just get one another. it’s easy sitting down with other writers — you exchange a few details about your lives, feel awkward, and stare at your computer and get to writing, which is exactly what she did. for three full hours she sat at the b & n cafe with two other semi-socially awkward peoples and wrote out boyfriend’s war stories.
already, wee bee feels hope for humanity creeping back into her soul. already, she is beginning to come out of her writer’s block depression back into the ranks of the woman she knows herself capable of being. there really is nothing quite like a writing sprint or two to reinvigorate the soul of a writer.