When Life Interferes with Writing

Dogpile Photo Credit: ricochet.com

Another type of writer’s block? Unlike normal writer’s block, life’s interference don’t keep us from writing, it keeps us from our writing. Reread that last part to make sure you get it–I added emphasis to help out ;).

Taking a walk, listening to music, reading, and all those activities for remedies from regular writer’s block don’t help here. It gets worse when others around you don’t understand your profession or don’t lend a hand to alleviate the any outside pressure that keeps you from your profession.

As of late I have been going through this. It sucks. Has it happened to you?

My only recourse is trying to blast out some of the clutter–pretty much on my own–of things I have neglected or due to some new irons I put into the fire for the sake of writing. Those were a have-to kind of thing. When you have so many have-tos in the way it can feel like you are underneath a dogpile.

These things range from building and starting a business, fall cleaning (since I missed spring) so my house won’t appear on an episode of Hoarders, wifely duties, and some time for recreation, blogging and social media, reading, and research. *catches breath* I ended up falling way behind because I became very sick for two weeks (I’ll write about it later) so that pushed me even further behind. *headdesk*

With the birth of 3 new series, continuing the series I have been writing since I was a teen, and a nonfiction book, and maybe something that could become a children’s book, I seriously need to get some of this crap out of my way so I can get into these awesome new projects. Somehow. With little or no help from anyone. Oh, I know I need to publish again so then there’s that, and that’s a question of a very different resource that I am lacking as opposed to time and there I may be doing it differently this time. So then there is that research–research could also be added to the to-do list for writing as well–I did mention research already. Moving on.

Some of my family wants to help but lives too far away, but others either don’t understand or don’t care. I’ve been pretty much on my own during this venture on day one since I was 16, so that really hasn’t changed, but then there wasn’t all the crap that goes along with adult life way back when.

It seems like I have have-tos from everything under the sun and by the time I am finally able to catch a break, I am too tired to focus or my finger coordination is so badly off someone would think I was stoned on something (a thing called life?). I am probably hitting the backspace key more than any other key and my thoughts would be nothing more than jumbled nonsense. My pre-K imagination would probably have cooked up something better than this shot-out stuff. Anyway…

It’s the things I can’t really say ‘no’ to as much as I would like. I don’t have a problem with saying no–that’s not what the problem is. This is kind of what it was like during my college years when I had so much crap to had do (study, homework, work, drive) that I couldn’t say no to that kept me and writing apart. Plus, there seems to be other pressures that seem to add to the dogpile. Sometimes I feel stifled and cannot breathe. Stressed out? Probably. I think this time the situation is much more substantial than any of that though.

However, the bright side is that I have been able to alleviate some of the clutter and my creative spark hasn’t died. It has grown, but now my head feels cluttered. That kind of happens when you aren’t able to release. Been here done that before. Once I release it’ll come out like someone pulled the plug in the Pacific somewhere.

Soon though I should be able to get things sort of back on kilter just enough so I can get back to writing. I must accept the fact I probably won’t receive any acceptance from anyone else around me still. It would be nice if they would, but that’s a long shot. I am so used to not being understood or others understanding my profession, so that’s really no surprise there. When I worked at an anylytical lab, friends and family didn’t understand that profession either.

In closing, I can honestly say this, “Whoever said being an adult is cool lied to me. I want my childhood back.” At least then I didn’t have all of this crap. I still had crap I had to deal with, but it was different, and it was stuff I could turn off. I had plenty of time for writing.

Breathe. One step at a time. Now to figure out a way to keep life out of my writing :/.

Questions? Comments? Have your own story? Words of encouragement? Leave them below!