Quite honestly, I have written and re-written the lede for this column approximately 10 times — both in my head and typing it on my on-screen keyboard. Fortunately, the unexpected heat wave that arrived in the middle of April increased the circulation in my hands and made the typing process a lot less laborious than it usually is in the colder months. But this was unusual for me, because typically I already have a topic in my head as I drive my wheelchair up to my desk.
This time, though, it was harder to parse a good idea from the flurry of topics swirling around in my brain, and each time, after several minutes of staring at a blank document, I thought that I had stumbled on to a topic that might work. But then I would promptly talk myself out of it. Inevitably, I would end up erasing the entire mini-paragraph that I had just written and would have to start over again.
Around the third or fourth time of repeating this act, I decided to lean into the current adversary I was coming up against: writer’s block.
As someone who has encountered writer’s block — to an extent — part of writing for me is despising most of the things that I put on the page. But I have never felt completely uninspired by every idea that I thought of. So, this was a new occurrence for me, and to be completely transparent, my gut instinct when I realized what was happening was to freak out.
Because when most writers talk about writer’s block, it’s often portrayed as something akin to the bubonic plague. But, somehow, infinitely worse. Because instead of an infection in the body, it’s a lack of creative inspiration. And for anyone who considers themselves an intellect, or you know rely on their creative pursuits for their career, a lack of inspiration is a fate worse than death. It makes life dull and mundane. It also can go on for an indeterminate amount of time.
It goes without saying how terrifying of a concept writer’s block is for me, personally. And I think I understand why it happened at this point in time. Because my life for the past few months has not really allowed my mind to have much space to wander in a healthy direction, and I didn’t want to write another piece that was in the same vein as those that I have this year.
I deeply wanted to come back from my brief medical hiatus with something profound and lighthearted to say, but not a lot has changed in the past two months since I last wrote about my ongoing medical issues. Except a lot more doctor’s appointments, and my team of doctors passing the baton from one specialty to the next, on whose turn it is to rule out which organ isn’t the issue. And in the moments where I do actually feel decent, I’m constantly bracing myself for the other shoe to drop. Because feeling awful has, in many ways, become my new normal. My energy has been allocated to a lot of other things, like keeping my heart rate at a reasonable rate, which has been a nearly impossible feat the past four months. This makes a lot of sense as I sit here typing this. Because my energy is limited, on a good day, and when there’s another issue at play, there’s not enough energy for good creative energy to exist.
And I had never encountered writer’s block to this degree previously, because when I last had health issues this severe, I didn’t have writing responsibilities. Or deadlines.
So as I sat there staring at the blank document on my computer screen for the minutes that felt like hours, I knew I had two options. I could whine and moan about having writer’s block, or I could take a pen from one of my literary heroes, Miss Taylor Swift, and attempt to write my way out of the situation.
I chose the latter because you all are reading this.
So I’m actively working on fighting through my writer’s block by writing this, but it was by no means an easy process. For context: it took me three-and-a-half days to write this column, when typically I could write one over the course of a day, if I was really strapped for time. And I often was during grad school. However, this column came to me in dribs and drabs, instead of in its full realization.
But as every writer will tell anyone, writing is very much a muscle that you have to work on, even if raw talent is involved. And because I know a thing or two about muscle weakness, I’m determined to get my creative muscle strong again.
One thing is for certain. My writing is a muscle that my condition will never be able to take from me.
Gazette columnist Joanna Buoniconti is a freelance writer and editor. She is currently pursuing her master’s at Emerson College. She can be reached at columnist@gazettenet.com.