Writers Block is a real thing. It affects the best of us and it probably affects the worst of us too. Personally, I’ve been experiencing writers block way too often of late and I think I know the reasons why. I can’t put it down to lack of inspiration as there’s inspiration for a good story, a good article and a good blog post all around me; everywhere I look I find something I could spin a yarn about. I can’t attribute writers block to lack of motivation either – not motivation to ‘physically’ write anyway; I have so many ideas I’d like to put down in words and I have every intention of doing so at some point but recently I find myself sat at my desk, laptop open, pen and pad poised…and nothing happens. And it’s not the lack of wanting to write that causes this, it’s more a mental exhaustion that results in this decrease in mental motivation.
Putting it in other words, I’m finding it difficult to fit everything in. And it’s stressful. And trying to do too much at once, trying to hold down a full time job, a job writing for a UK based website, a job writing for an Australian-based Creative magazine, a rigorous fitness regime and actually trying to enjoy life at the same time, well, it sometimes results in a mental block. It’s frustrating but I know it’s my brain’s way of telling me to take a break, to slow down, to sacrifice something. But I can’t. I can’t give up the one thing that takes up my spare time – my writing. And I certainly can’t afford to give up my day job…yet.
I currently feel as if I actually have three full time jobs as opposed to “one and ‘a bit of writing on the side’”. I go to work Monday to Friday, nine to five (just like many others, I know this, and I am not seeking sympathy). The job I do is boring. It’s mundane. I sit for eight hours a day staring at a screen, clicking buttons monotonously, my brain in auto-pilot, like a performing monkey. I fidget. I get agitated. I am not stimulated. And the stimulus I am provided with is mind-numbing. The job is too easy; it’s a piece of piss; I could do it while texting, Facebooking, Instagramming, sending emails and having a gossip; and I often do. I have zero interest in the business and I have absolutely no intention of furthering myself within this company. The job is a means to an end; a way of helping me pay off my debts and save for my return to Australia. That’s it.
“What’s she complaining about then?” I hear you say! Well, the mental exhaustion I feel at the end of each working day leaves me drained. Then there’s the M6 commute; another drain on the already mangled matter of my fragile mind. I arrive home, void of all creativity, the life and soul sucked out of me because the conveyor belt of repetition I have to endure kills any of the positive and imaginative brain cells I may have left. Going ten rounds with Mike Tyson would leave me with more physical and mental energy than a day in this job does.
And then I need to get to work on my other jobs – the jobs I would much prefer to be spending my precious, waking time on. The jobs I long to be able make a living from. My evenings and a good portion of my weekends are now generally spent researching and writing, for two separate publications/websites. I use all the creative, word-crafting, vocabulary-exploring, imaginative force I can muster to produce articles for a magazine I adore writing for; one that’s based in Melbourne and one I’d love to write for full time. And I enjoy it. I crave it. And I’d enjoy it a hell of a lot more if all of my energy was ploughed into it instead of the shattered remains I may have left at 6pm.
And once the writing for this magazine is finished, I spend a very decent amount of time researching and compiling articles for an educational software website – of which I’m still learning about and getting to grips with. I love this as well, as I’m continuously increasing my knowledge of a new subject and enhancing my writing portfolio all at the same time.
Once the copy for these websites has been completed, I have to try to find some time for myself – the most important kind of time. I have to find the time to try and enjoy my life. I’m no hermit (although I feel like one at times) but I’m 30 and still single and still working damn hard to achieve my dreams when a lot of people I know are settled in their careers and their personal lives. Even though my writing goals and aspirations are my number one priority right now, I can’t help but think the pursuit of my journalistic ideal is leading me down a path, one where I’ll end up missing out on important personal milestones. I do not want to spend every waking moment chained to a desk when I should to be out loving life as well; being free, meeting new people; spending time with the people I love. But that’s the way it’s going, that’s what writers block has reduced me to, and sometimes I feel I may as well dig myself an early grave right now. But I won’t.
If I could give up this gruelling, painstaking drudgery of a 9-5 and concentrate 100% on my writing, I really think my writers block would disappear. And that’s what I’m attributing this unfortunate ‘disease’ to – my full time job. My full time job is to blame for my writers block and having to deal with it makes everything else ten times harder (don’t get the violins out, there’s really no need).
If you don’t understand what I’m talking about with the whole writers block thing then I’ll try to explain: Imagine you’re an athlete and all you want to do is play sport but you can’t just play sport all day as you’re not yet at the stage where you’re getting paid enough for it. So you take on a full time job in order to get you by in life, and playing sport is relegated to evenings and weekends which is not ideal in any way, shape, or form. If the job that you take on happens to leave you injured or exhausted, your sporting prowess wanes and you become tired and frustrated, and unfit and agitated and stressed, because the one thing you want to do, the one thing you love and are most passionate about has been hindered by something you DON’T want to do but are forced into doing. Make sense?
Writers block is like a sporting injury; it’s a disease that every creative fears. It’s real, and it’s slowly driving me insane.
Chasing Amy-Lou 