I always knew it would happen, and despite my lack of familiarity with the issue, I finally experienced it. I felt it lurking in the distance of my cognitive sanctuary. It hid in the shadows amongst daily tasks, to-do lists, and aspirations. Still, I never allowed myself the privilege of being anxious due to my finger's inability to stay away from a keyboard. Watching in awe as my fingers continued to glide across the keyboard, pressing and punching effortlessly. I began documenting the numerous stories that waited patiently to be published. Week after week, I had experienced innumerable times where I'd grab my phone abruptly, fighting through the multiple apps that lay plastered on my apple device as I searched for my documents app trying to add yet another title, vision, and concept that had fled from my imagination. Waiting to be mapped out, constructed, and added to the binding of a book that awaited the delivery to the doorstep of a prepared reader interested in where my imagination can transport them next!
These past few weeks, I've been perplexed as to what my process will look like next as I search through my cognitive function, which has become skewed due to the effects of grieving a loved one. The tired effects of working long hours, juggling through the chaos and love of motherhood, and finding where I land each day after chasing down a balance I am convinced doesn't genuinely exist. After rummaging through the chaos of life's day-to-day requirements, I'm tired, organized, prepared for the next 24 hrs, and longing for a window of time to do what it is that keeps me from perishing into the fog of burnout. Write now, girl! But she can't, and she won't, and she doesn't. Not Because she doesn't have it in her, or she doesn't enjoy it, but she can't Because she has finally become faced with the brush of fog that impairs creativity. The mist that allows you to type a few sentences over and over before you finally decide to eject away from your failed process and ...... delete, delete, delete because your creative process has been intercepted by life. Because you are drained, hurt, tired, and uninspired to create anything outside of the world you currently reside in.
After weeks of nothingness and bland spurts of free writing, I arrive to work the night shift with a client. She enters the room to go through the final nightcap, voice her frustrations, and thanks me for my diligence before going into all the day's annoyances that have accompanied her thoughts after hours. I listen, I give my feedback, and I begin to drift off into deep thoughts of creativity as I feel the fog start to lift abruptly! There it is! The story I've been waiting on for weeks while working on book two of Janay Wilkerson and Illuminus. I am trying to fight against the stagnation that has taken over my mind and my fingers enabling them to do what they have done consistently. I grabbed my phone, pulled up my publication list, and began typing the title and the concept of the story. Feeling a brush of gratitude take over me as I silently thank the universe for welcoming me back into a creative space.
A space that is required for me to feel comfortable, cope, stride, and swim through life's daily tides of full loads and leadership! Just like that, I'm back, and it feels good to rid myself of my first acquaintance with writer's block!
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