Blocked? Where's the fiber?

Before becoming more active on this blog, I have slowly been conditioning myself to write down any kind of creative thought that enters my skull. If you've read any of these postings, you know all too well that these ideas are few and far between (pity party, please form a line to the left). Until these notes, I would sit at my laptop wanting so badly to jot something down. Each attempt would yield unfruitful results. The harder I tried to force my fingers on these keys, the harder it became to form a coherent thought. Looking back at some of the drafts during this time I found one titled, "World Travelers Beware" which only included the line, "Seeing the world is overrated." One sentence. One cynically driven sentence. Following that, blank space for the words that could have been but never were just sat there, eagerly anticipating the slightest black marking.

I wonder what I could have added to such a wonderfully developed thought? Even now, I don't know what drove me to try and write a blog with this underlying theme. Do I believe that seeing the world is overrated? Ehh, not really. Perhaps what I wanted to say would have addressed the fact that there are certain places in the world I wouldn't ever want to visit. (Kids! Get your bags packed, we're going to Mary, Turkmenistan!)

Writers block is a bitch. When somebody asks you a question, and you're not too sure how to answer it, what do you do? You come up with some BS kind of answer, of course! It may take a second to spew and spurt the BS out but you can take comfort in knowing that you said something. Writers block is like this, but you can't wiggle your way out of it. There are no life lines. No asking the audience. Naturally when this occurs in a written environment you will start writing your BS. If you can just conjure up something, then maybe, just maybe, you can turn that something in to a bigger something. Then you look down at your screen to find what you conjured up was along the lines of, "Seeing the world is overrated". Crap. Backspace, backspace, backspace.... blank slate.

This is when the bizarre, bat-shit insane ideas come out of the woodwork and an inner dialogue follows. For instance:

Hmm. Maybe I can write about a cactus.

Okay, develop that.

What about this cactus makes it special?

Hmm... special... special... Special K!

Okay, so this cactus enjoys eating cereal. Wait, why is the cactus eating cereal?

Because it likes cereal.

But cactus' don't eat cereal.

This one does.

So it must have facial features then, right?

Yes.

So if it has facial features this means it has eyes and if it has eyes then it can wear sunglasses.

Okay, so the cereal eating cactus is wearing a cool pair of aviators when... what?

What's going to happen to this cactus to make this story worth while?

Hmm. Maybe a bird lands on it?

What kind of bird?

It really doesn't matter, it can be any kind of bird, we can just say bird and people will understand.

So the bird lands on the cactus. Does it get hurt?

Yes.

Yes, it hurts itself and this upsets the cactus.

The cactus, being the hip cool Special K eating cactus that he is, would never dream of hurting a bird. Now we have a depressed cactus, what do we do with that?

Well he's gotta make amends to the bird somehow.

But how?

Well cactus' haves spines, right?

Duh- that's why the bird got hurt in the first place!

Well what if he offered to shave off his spines so that the bird would have a safe place to land?

This is assuming, naturally, that the cactus is capable of shaving.

Jesus, I don't even need to shave that often. This cactus really is special.

So he shaves off his spines to benefit the bird. What does he do with his spines?

I know! Let's have him make a bird nest out of his spines so that the bird also has a place to live to go along with a place to land.

Brilliant.

This means that the cactus took basket weaving classes at one point.

What? Birds don't take basket weaving courses.

Yes but they were born knowing how to make a nest out of grass and sticks and what have you.

Yes... but this is a cactus.

Oh, right.

Duh. Cactus' wouldn't have a clue unless they took the appropriate classes.

Glad we're in agreement. So the bird is happy and the cactus no longer feels guilty.

And they lived happily ever after?

I don't know, that's an awfully cliche way to end a story.

True.

How about, "It was at this moment that the cactus learned a lesson. Sometimes it takes more than sunglasses to make you cool. Sometimes it takes friends. And the bird... well he learned that sometimes you have to be careful where you land. Landing on a cactus can be risky, but through risks come great adventures. The end."

Love it.

BOOM! Talk about non-sequidor. What does that story have to do with anything? I suppose it shows the gory aftermath of particular cases of writers block. Did I have writers block before writing this, or did I plan it all? You're free to take a guess. A little piece of advice for all you writers out there. Your writing is never finished, it is only published. Best of luck.