When I was a teenager creativity flowed freely.  I wrote constantly.  I found a bunch of that stuff when we moved and it is BAD. HORRIBLE. EMBARRASSING.  I didn’t get rid of it…but it will never see the light of day.

WHY was I so angsty?  I was a middle class white girl in the suburbs.  I had nothing to be sad about.  But I wrote these dark, discontented poems.  Did I mention they were HORRIBLE?  And I would spend hours on them.  I would hand write and edit them…and then type them out in different fonts on the computer.  Sometimes I would add clip art pictures.  CLIP ART PICTURES!  Then I would print them out.  What the freaking crap? Oh it’s just soooo embarrassing!

I would NOT go back to being a teenager if you paid me a million bucks.  No thank you on the clusterfook of emotions and feelings and drama.

Regardless of how bad my writing was I never had a lack of inspiration.  I guess my hormonal teenage mind was a pool of ideas.  I don’t know when I stopped writing but I did…for a long time.

And then when Alivia was a baby I started again. And after I started my blog  it was like a couldn’t stop the ideas from coming.  I dreamed in blog posts…I kept a notebook by my side so I could jot down ideas as I had them.   I wrote almost every day.  I would get up from bed at night to write.  I would stay up into the wee morning hours to write.

And now?

…yeah obviously I haven’t been writing.  I am not really sure how to rationalize the lack of creativity I have been feeling.  I am definitely busy with life but that never stopped me before.  A rut maybe? I can’t really pinpoint the problem.  I still love the release I get when I write.  I still get inspired and think “wow I should really write that down”.

And you know what?  My lack of writing is not for lack of material.    I would love to write about SO many things.  However the things I would benefit most from writing about and the things that would probably be the most fun to read about are a bit too private for the internet.  Even for me.  Come to think about it the only way I would ever even write about those things on paper would be if I could author an anonymous book.   And even then I am sure people would find out.  (Maybe I should buy a diary with a lock on it like I had when I was 15.)

So basically all of the deep dark juiciest material is just stuck in my brain with no hope of ever coming out.

Maybe that is what the problem is.  Maybe I am too bogged down with all of that stuff and it’s blocking everything else?  Who knows…but I am still here and maybe I will get my creativity back soon.

Filed under blogging, life |