It’s a block. A humongous one the size of Texas and it is bothering me no end. Thanks to it, a couple of stories and a few posts lie languishing in my system, unfinished and unappealing. Whatever it is, I find it very convenient to blame it all on the all-encompassing WRITER’S BLOCK. Thank god for whoever invented or discovered it. I can lay the blame at that door for my inabilities and shortcomings and frustrations and lack of time and loss of the creative urge and ….. hey who am I trying to fool here…. Simply put, lay the blame for my laziness.
Another one of my favorite excuses these days is that my kids’ school is out for summer and as the wonderful, serene, devoted mother that I sometimes imagine myself to be, I should be spending quality time with them. I fool no one who knows me with this excuse of an excuse, certainly not my children. They know me for what I am. Grouchy, moody, not very patient, not very motherly mom who would rather curl up someplace with a book rather than play ‘Teacher-Teacher’ or ‘Tea with Barbie’ with them. But hey, I try. No one can blame me for not trying.
Somewhere at the back of my mind is that ‘MOTHER’ I see myself as. Ever patient, always smiling, ever ready to drop everything at a moment’s notice and play with them any inane game, answer everyone of their questions to THEIR satisfaction, come up with wonderful ideas for art and craft projects, throw wonderfully innovative and charming birthday parties that are the envy of their friends, make delightful dresses for them, bake the best cookies from scratch, write a fabulous book about a boy wizard who lived and whom the whole world knows about unless you were on a 10 year vacation on Mars… oops sorry I get carried away at times.
Anyway, the result is that I am not spending much time with them or getting anything else done for that matter. While I do spend considerable time with them, so that I do not go on a guilt trip, I do not think that that time qualifies as a full blown excuse for not writing (who am I fooling again? I am always on a guilt trip) So there goes my excuse number two.
So what do I actually do? One thing is for sure. I trawl the Internet, visiting fellow bloggers. At the end of it all, I am in no better shape. I’ll tell you why. There are these bloggers, all meaningfully employed, busy with their own official and personal lives and yet manage to find time to write wonderful blogs that are thought provoking, well thought out, interesting, with scintillating humour, excellent language and what not AND they update their blogs with unfailing regularity. Some of them even visit other blogs and leave interesting and meaningful comments (rather than the usual gr8, cute, good etc etc.) their comments carry substance. My dear bloggers/readers you know who I am talking about. You would recognize yourselves in these lines.
And here I sit and fret why no one visits my blogs. And why most people who visit do not bother to leave comments. Do I ever ask myself,” How many blogs have I visited and gone away without leaving my footprints?” uh uh. No way. (hey I am the vaathi here . not the prathi. So do not ask me difficult-to-answer questions).
Moreover, after reading all those wonderfully well-written blogs, I also lose whatever shot of confidence I have in my so-called writing abilities. (Yea, yea, I know. But do indulge me and allow me the freedom of wallowing in the morass of self-pity and inferiority complex here) I feel I am no good and ask myself what in the world I am even doing here. Whatever made me put up my ‘writing’ for the whole world to read. At which crazed moment did I even think of creating my own blog. Whatever was I thinking? At least I can take solace in the fact that I write under my pen name, thus saving me the embarrassment of acknowledging ownership of my ridiculous blog in case I run into the one in a million chance of meeting anyone who might have actually read them. (Whew, that is some long sentence. I thought it would never end)
And just when I hit rock bottom, the nadir, so to say of my confidence level, I get mails and comments from my miniscule and still returning readers asking me why I haven’t posted for a long time, asking me where I have disappeared to. I am gently shaken. Ah, so people actually do want to read what I write. Then I cannot be that bad after all. I can feel a small wave of confidence rising up from somewhere deep within. It grows and grows and rises as one huge tidal wave (ah, methinks this allegory reminds me of something else… get your minds out of the gutter. I was only thinking of the tsunami) comes crashing out to crumble that humongous writer’s block. What block? I thumb my nose at it… so I come back to write about what else but my inability to write. So here I am, back in the loop.
Hey you all, all of you who inquired and asked me to update my blogs, it means a lot to me. Thanks for that shot in the arm. Guys, you know who you are and thanks a million. I am sorry I found nothing better to write about, but am glad I finally wrote something.