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The writer’s block – Or the “my brain sucks” condition

I have it bad. The writer’s block has taken a tight hold of me. I’m dying!


Well, I’m not really dying. I mean, it certainly feels like a part of my brain has just decided to not work, to leave me hanging. I’m sure it’s giggling in a corner, pointing fingers and having a blast watching me enter various degrees of panic in mere seconds.

I’m not even sure if it’s writer’s block or blank page syndrome. I’m not even sure I fully understand the difference, but I’m very sure that it’s writers who have edited the Wiki-page, because there is a million different options, a million different excuses, as to why these writers can’t write right now. Many fancy words. Long sentences and thorough research. It’s like… they were actually writing. Talk about counter-productive procrastination, and a little bit of self-delusion.

(Pot. Kettle. Black.)

No, I did not try to edit it with my own interpretation of writer’s block. No, I’m not bitter or envious. Not at all.

I’m so bitter…

I swing wildly between having all the ideas in the world at the same time, and then going completely blank. I mainly go blank when I finally sit down and try to write down all the great ideas I had a minute ago. Sometimes I manage to get a few of them down only to realize that all the ideas were terribly. My brain was on fire and had decided that every single thought I had, had been the best idea that had ever happened to anyone, in the history of writing, and I would now blow everyone away.

Nope. Nope nope nope.

Oh my Sweet Mother Mary, I have no idea what I was thinking.

As we speak, I have 9 different drafts, all of them fairly horrible. I’m not sure how to turn it around, to see if I can manage to save them, but even though I really doubt I can, they are all I have now. They are like my children, but the children I am very aware are dicks and bully the other kids, when they are not eating glue, that is.

So I decided to write about my writer’s block instead. I tried all the other little tricks, reading someone elses writings, taking a break and focusing on something else, just writing whatever came to mind, even though it was complete gibberish. None of it worked. Reading what others had written only made me bitter, focusing on other stuff made me stress out even more, and my gibberish never evolved to anything but gibberish. I ended up testing how many U’s you can put in the word Dude, before it looks weird.

I ended up with 5. Duuuuude. At first it was 6, but then I stared at it for so long that it didn’t look like a word at all. I am, right now, doing it again.

So. Here we are. Writing about this. Why, you ask, very silently?

My brain.

Because this. Only this.


Christ, I need help! Or red wine and a box of chocolate. That’ll be great too.


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