I have, for a few years now, suffered from continuous writer’s block.
Fortunately this is not for lack of imagination, nor lack of direction. Instead it’s the daunting sight of blank paper. It’s the painful process of organizing ideas and then putting them into words.
The words that come out lay short of my expectations. Somehow in my head an idea can be framed eloquently when no words are attached, however the pen never reflects this wordless perfection. I’ll stare blankly at a poorly constructed sentence and blame myself for its brazen manner. It feels like my intellectual insights are trapped behind the bars of (shit) written style. “Bugger it!“, I’ll say, “I’ll carry on tomorrow.“
I have tried to spend time perfecting my prose. Brought a book by a man called Shrunk, read copywriter’s blogs, and even (tried) to write blogs. The result has been pleasing, but not satisfying. Unfortunately there’s a problem with adopting these ‘unwritten rules of written language‘; you are reduced to the bookish pursuit a shifting around the a comma, or editing your copy with a red pen proudly saying “Aha! This word doesn’t add anything. Scrap it!“
After the fifth edit I’m left with a robotic chunk of text that flows as well as rocks, and funking big rocks at that.
