The Finger

You know, the best thing I ever did creatively (no, it wasn’t that post about intangibility, or the one later about tea) was to get mad. My friend, who is very talented both as a writer and photographer – she might not believe me, but it’s true – and even as a business analyst, mentioned this quote from some asshole about writer’s block meaning you shouldn’t be a writer. I wonder if that guy knows he inspired me by being such an asshole. M mentioned this in passing, in an email, and it so angered me that I felt I had to prove him wrong. And I started blogging.

That was 4 years ago.

I’m still blogging. Maybe not as often, maybe not always with the quality I’d like, but I’m still doing it, and I’m still honing my craft. Why? Because I got mad.

When I was a kid, I watched my mom get mad every time someone told her no, every time someone told her that I had an issue. I watched it spark her energy and get her going; maybe it’s a bit of her in me – don’t you tell me I can’t because I WILL GO do it, just to spite you.

Somehow, over the last 4 years, creatively, I’ve gone through some cycles – the post a lot cycles, the creative spark cycles, the boredom with my voice cycle, the journalistic reporting of my current events, a few efforts to redefine my vision.

I think I’m in one of those cycles now – a combination of stagantion, indecision, and crippling self doubt – and perhaps that’s what I need: some good old fashioned anger and spark to prove someone wrong to get me going.

Motivation is good, and I can’t tell you how amazing I feel inside when I get a comment or an email that something I wrote, or photographed, has touched someone, or helped them see something in a new way. But, it is a lot harder to live up to something amazing than it is to flip off something awful and say, “Fuck you!” by doing that very thing and intending to show up that critic, be it internal or external. Apparently, my inner critic really backs down to that kind of treatment.

Writer’s block, my ass.

Here we go again!