I was dumping cherry pits into the trash when it hit me. It was not a new thought, but a connection of several old ones. "I need to blog, but I have nothing to say," was the trigger thought that occurred when I made the short walk to the kitchen. It spiraled downward into self-loathing as I thought about the several pieces of writing that are all at dead ends, the fifty-million half-finished books I'm reading, the fact that I bought 4 books online today (2 I've already read). I am trying to carry on with my writing goals, despite the fact I'm not writing much. For example, I'm rereading a book I feel I can learn from and appreciate more a second read-through. Plus, I'm supposed to meet with a nun who just published an anthology to discuss my idea for an anthology on Monday. I have all these big goals and good intentions, and they are frozen right now. I've been feeling creatively frustrated the past month or so, then I thought about how I also have felt stunted spiritually. I once told Adam that my spirituality is like a car that won't start. I get little sparks here and there, but nothing to keep it running. Is it it a coincidence that I'm creatively and spiritually stuck? Then I realized, for me, they are connected. When I lost all sense of spirituality and had nothing left in me to even attend class, go out with friends, sleep, or pray, what did I do? I got my ass out of bed and went to the library to write. My creativity helped keep a little bit of some spirituality alive, which was enough to keep the me running, even if I still stalled out pretty regularly.
I don't know how to refill myself up spiritually and creatively, so I've been reading a lot. They say a big portion of a writer's job is reading. I'm revisiting books I read years ago. They are impacting me in new ways; I am seeing things I missed before. I've taken to underlining meaningful or well-written passages to reflect on--research for my own writing (that's how I rationalized buying 4 books today. They are well-written books I can use as models for my writing).
I lost the energy from my cherry-pit-dumping enlightenment. I hate when I can't capture creative flashes like that one. I just couldn't slow my thoughts down enough. That's so frustrating. I'm going to keep pushing them, though. Keep forcing some writing, even if it's shit. I wouldn't be so creatively drained if I wasn't stuck on an essay to the point of giving up (honestly, I worked the entire spring semester on this essay, and it's still not okay), unable to crank out any poems, and hadn't ran myself into a wall with my fiction. What's left? I really need to learn to play guitar so I can write songs. Three genres is just not enough for me.
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