Writing Through Writer’s Block
Daily Blog #6
I spend most of my time not writing. But instead thinking, hesitating, wondering if whatever it is that I want to write is good enough that I can actually start writing. Wondering if what I do write is good enough to share
I’m starting to think that matters less and less now.
I have so many unpublished essays and blogs. I start a lot, but I seldom let myself finish. I chalk a lot of it up to imposter syndrome or insecurity or perfectionism, but realistically it’s a combination of both.
Writing things just for them to be drafts serves a purpose, but writing everything with the intent to share is a certain type of pressure that I find to get over.
I’ve been dealing with failure, too much time on my hands and feeling like I don’t have enough hours in the day. Healing open wounds from all the times that I’ve been burned. Trying to find my worth. Avoiding phone calls.
Writer’s block is an injury, creative blocks are an injury. They’re the only injury that I’d say you should fight through. I’ve let myself become too comfortable taking time off. I’ve become complacent in the battle against my own mental blocks.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot, I’m alive. People die everyday, we live in a world where you can get murdered for your faith or race and I’m alive. I’m a 21 year old black man in North America and still I’m alive. They kill people like me for holding cellphones. They kill children that look like me. They shoot us for wearing hoodies. For walking on the fucking street.
That was an excerpt from an interlude to a project that I contributed to. I don’t have much to say, so on days like this I’ll share some old work that I’ve done.
Kyle
