Why hello my most dear and sparse cyber audience! I am quite determined to overcome my writer's block, and flush out a number of pieces on topics I haven't yet decided on. I have been in a slump for a while and haven't written anything of consequence lately. As much as I love writing and may show some promise, my style has been diluted and abased by too many research papers that I wrote in college. Hence the many "ands" and run-on sentences here and there. A good dose of Strunk & White would do me wonders I presume.
As far as my writer's block goes, part of it was caused by not having time to think outside the box while finishing up my college years, but also because a writing project was blocking the way. For many years now I've been formulating an idea for a book that I'd like to write, more or less loosely based on my growing up experiences in the coarse and unruly, yet mesmerizing Venezuela. A friend once asked me what I was planning on writing about in my book, and I said "My life of course. You know - growing up in Venezuela." She didn't skip a beat before responding "And what makes you think people would be interested in reading about that?" Ouch. Harsh but true. Unless I'm planning on being wickedly famous one day and in need of a dry, strictly chronological autobiography, my current start on my first book was no more than rubbish. I realized I need to regroup and rethink my strategy, and that I was still lacking in material to write about. I have many memories in tact, but many others have faded altogether and need a good deal of refreshing. All this being said, I am still determined to write my book, it's just a matter of getting started on it. It is my goal to have a chapter of it completed by the time I return to the U.S. in August, if not a bit more than that.
So how was this causing my writer's block? I think that subconsciously I was refusing to write other things before I worked on the book project. But I've realized that I just may need to write about other things to get my writing to start flowing again. I've also been particularly inspired by a high school English teacher of mine, Mr. Geoff Sheehy, who was also my impromptu hostel parent for a semester. I enjoyed all of the written projects I was ever assigned in his class, probably most of all because I knew who was going to be reading them. In his class I felt that my writing was actually going somewhere, it had value, and therefore was worth all the time, effort, and creative sweat that went into it. Years later he read a note I had posted on my Facebook profile, and concerned by my half-hearted confidence in my writings' value sent me a message, urging me to keep writing and to not be dissuaded by the occasional unsatisfactory works I would create. He said he remembered certain papers I had written and I remembered receiving an award from him for showing the most promise as a writer or something along those lines my junior year of high school.
It is enough, to have one person believe, approve, and encourage my struggling forages in the written world to want to press on always, stumbling, failing, and then maybe someday to soar higher than ever expected. Another friend of mine, Joe, has also said he would read my writing, and I said I would read his, which is indeed something to look forward to!
Here I am, very eager to push through the haze in my mind, to overcome my lazy patterns of thinking. There's something wrong with the sentence I just wrote. It must be a run-on, but I can't remember how to fix it. To "The Elements of Style" I must hastily recur. For the moment I'm at an impasse for words, so I will read "The Minister's Black Veil" by Nathanial Hawthorne, since my old prof, Mr. Sheehy himself, mentioned it in his note to me. Maybe I will return and write my thoughts on it. In the mean time, here is a link to his blog, which is both candid and entertaining.
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