So, after a few days without any news in here (hey, I have the right to, no one even knows this blog exists!) here I am, posting this.

First I'd like to say how happy I am that my Spanish exam was easy... There was no madre question, but hey, it was pretty much piece of cake. Anyone could do it. Even people who never attended Spanish classes.

Secondly, I'll go straight to the main topic of today's post. Writer's block. Yeah, that not-so-funny guy who thinks he's all that and that he should rule writer's lives in order to stop them from being happy or proud of themselves.

I don't like to think I have writer's block. 'Cause truth be told, I have the ideas. And I know I have the ability. I mean, it's just words. Just small words which I have to ordenate in order to create wonders. Other people have done it. Why wouldn't I? I don't consider myself extra-smart or talented or gifted. But writing doesn't require any of those qualities. Writing requires words. And that's it.

And concerning ideas, I have a plenty - I just don't know how to use them. I know how I wanna use them, but then I can't. I start writing and I just freak out. Because, no, that's not how I want it to sound. Or, no, I shouldn't start with this idea. It's so much easier to write endings than begginings, that's all I'm gonna say. Starting a story takes guts, and that's when great-all-mighty-published writers tell us, aspiring ones:

'Start writing, and don't worry if it sounds bad. Later, you may return and put it right.'

I have read this paraphrased sentence more times than I can count. Seriously, try to go to a webpage of a famous writer, and look up his/her advices to writers-wannabes. It's all over the place. But hey, I can't do it. I can try to move forward and just keep on writing, but then I'm so displeased with myself that I don't have the guts or the will to go on and just write.

And I never even considered myself perfect, or even a perfect-seeker.

That's why I prefer to write small thoughts, reflections, letters. I can write exactly as I wish to. But writing in a reflexive auto-corrective and beautiful manner doesn't work for stories. I wanna write fiction stories, but I can't. Because I start them and then... I never get to finish the first chapter. There were only four stories in my whole life that I could take longer than fifteen pages.

One of them sticked for the second chapter. Of the other three, two remain unfinished. One alone was finished and it has something like 32.000 words. I could only finish it because I received a lot of reviews and comments from other people while I was writing it. One of the two unfinished long stories had like 45.000 when I stopped writing it. And that's how far in a story I've ever been. I've never been able to cross that limit and write something that kept me happy for longer than 45.000 words. And that was... Five or more years ago.

I have ideas every day. I write some of my dreams, sometimes, just to have a backup if I run out of ideas. All of them are great stories, that I personally would like to read. I love reading my own stories' begginings. Just because I don't like writing the stories anymore, it doesn't mean I don't enjoy the stories themselves. I like my ideas, but I don't have the mood for writing. Like, writing this post, I'm writing it. I'm bearing it. But I'll eventually grow bored of it.

Sometimes, I'm afraid I'll stop loving writing. Because it's my thing, you know. The thing I do that I see myself doing forever or, at least, until I die or go blind. But even if I go blind I'll still have the stories stuck in my head. The words, sometimes urging to be written, and other times glued to a place I can't reach.

But when I have the urge to write, the words in my fingertips, flowing, reading themselves, yelling at me, it's the most rewarding indescribable feeling ever. And I'll never stop loving that.

So, basically, writer's block is evil. But evil is the start to every story, if it wasn't for it, there would be no story. So writer's block just has to make us miserable enough for us to find something to write about. Maybe we don't find right away how to write it. But eventually, we may come back to beat the beast. It's the only thing and only conclusion I can give you. Me, myself defeated, until now, by the same beast I claim we all should win. But hey, at least it makes me real.

In conclusion, all I can say is: go and find your beast. Step over it, progress even when it threats to smash your brain and (for the time being) sane mind. Do all you can to move on and see the wonders your idea has. And someday, when you're done with your story, go back and find the beast. And then, kill it.

Labels: beast, cliché advices, Spanish, Writer's Block