My Writer's Block at Your Expense

In September of 2008 I (for lack of anything better to do at 2AM) very innocently embarked upon my first stab at a novel. I didn't realize that was what I was doing at the time but quickly it became just that. In November of the same year, employment brought that effort to an unnoticed halt. Unemployment once again reared its ugly head (as it usually does) and in August of the next year I was back at her, harder than ever. At this point I really thought I had it in me. I just knew that I would have a completed manuscript (edited and polished) come February 2010. I have yet to see that dream realized. In fact I have scarcely written a thing since January 2010. To date, this "book" of mine is only half written and entirely unedited. This entry is directly a result of today's failed attempt to move forward with the text.

Many efforts have been made on my part to continue the upward path toward a completed manuscript but all have yielded little to no result. The bullet train of my creativity that took off without impediment in the late summer of 2009 has derailed into a gorge of stagnation. It's writer's block like a mutha fucka and I've been using this poor defenseless blog to exact my own revenge against the written word which has left me to rot. I find profanity to be soothing to the savage cantankerous beast that dwells in the left side of my brain. This beast thirsts for an outlet, the likes of which I cannot now provide with the same literary dexterity I once had.

Before I got to this point of outright counter-productivity, I employed many other devices to aid me in my stupor. I tried developing other written works I'd begun, not knowing what they were or what they would become, with the goal of being swept up in a current of creativity the way I was before. I succeeded only in starting three other books and two graphic novels which I may also never finish. (Who knew writer's block could be so ubiquitous?) I begged the aid of many others who I knew had some sensibility when it came to literature. They all at some point agreed to be of service but none of them actually manifested their claims. I also solicited the advice of other writers who before me had been snared in the jowls of writer's block. I enacted their devices to no avail. With no more bright ideas, I could but only turn to the ever open ear of the indiscriminate blog for it accepts all who come, no matter how crass or talentless in the realm of written language. Sometimes I feel that this medium of mine is more of an aversion than a diversion but fuck it. I gotta get my authorial fix somewhere, regardless of the blatant vanity that may or may not be involved.

I must leave you now as I thirst for yet another daunting endeavor...