where secrets defy
the common eye
Question: when is a writer not a writer?
I think the worst part about identifying as a writer is the internalization of that constant feeling that one should be at work in some way — writing, brainstorming, storyboarding, drawing or somehow visualizing aspects of their stories, et cetera, et cetera . . . and of course, blogging alone doesn’t do the trick, but it takes the edge off of the guilt and the feelings of inadequacy that go with the territory of not writing full time. It can be a springboard, but it can’t be used as a way to put off the inevitable, or it’s hard for one to define themselves as a writer rather than a blogger.
What’s even worse is when a writer begins to dry out after a spell of being unable to write for a while; life or time gets away from them, and then they begin to feel like they’ve lost the spark — as though the human brain in its enthusiasm to prune away the unused bits is predisposed to begin its cultivation by checking, then double- and triple-checking, that any cold circuits related to creativity are removed from service —
Culled from the herd, as it were. Leaving one to start over again.