Am I the only one who gives a distinct visual to their writer’s block? Maybe I had too much fun reading the books and all, but now I have to admit, when I find myself with “writer’s block” and picture it, that’s what it looks like: the 2001 Monolith.
I mean, it’s there. My Block is a large, glaringly obvious black form. If I turn away from what I’m doing, I can see it. If I want to spend time thinking about something other than writing, and just let the mind drift, then it tries to draw me in.
And I can’t help but feel if it’s gotten damned annoyed with my lack of attention. I can swear it generates that weird atmospheric score from the film (you know, the one that sounds like vocalizing in an angry beehive, and gets louder and more shrill?).
The Monolith is right there. It wants me to do something, and I feel like if I was brave enough, maybe I could reach out and touch it. I wonder if I could embrace it and figure out my next steps. I wonder if there’s any answers found in staring it down.
I’m years past the “dawn” of my creativity, but I’m stuck in the rut, full of uncertainty, confusion, and the usual-negativity-suspects.
The Monolith is a needle in my mind that reminds me of all the things I haven’t done yet, the things I’ve started, and the things I should be doing. It’s like it just stands there and ridicules me.
But that’s silly, because other than the annoying “beehive score” it doesn’t have a voice.
That would just be too weird if it did, right?
Maybe that’s the whole point–It’s a black block form that I’ve taken from pop culture and made into my own visual. So, does that mean I have more power over it than I would like to think? More power over the Monolith, the Writer’s Block, than I’d want to admit to myself?
Because, you know, that would mean I’d actually have to do something about it. And that I could!
Huh–yeah, my writer’s block is the Monolith. When I’ve found my wisdom, my peace, and my sense of the world, it’ll go elsewhere until the next stage of my evolution. Hmm…
I kinda like that, now that I think about it more.
The Monolith is my Writer’s Block. It’s staring me down, waiting for me to figure it out. Waiting for me to take out my notebooks and pens and focus.
Waiting for me to take a walk and see something else for a while.
Waiting for me to pull the “mini-liths” from the shelves and lose myself in another world for a short time.
Waiting for me to pull back together. And then I can write.
Yes, the Monolith is my–sometimes helpful–writer’s block, a form to remind me that there’s something missing, something that needs doing and I can do it if I’m focused and aware.
And a useful tool if I get too off track–that damned beehive score would make me crazy before too long!