Writer's Block?

I wasn't going to post tonight. But it's Tuesday. I post every night except Monday and Friday. Last week when I neglected to do so, I had the same feeling each day that you might get if you don't check your work email, forget to brush your teeth at night, or accidentally put on odd socks and realize it after you get to work. (Okay, maybe the last part is just me). But it feels like you forgot to do the one thing that you really should have done, consequence or not.

This blog has become compulsory. I realize that now. So at around 9:30, when I finally gave up my fight to have a night off, I couldn't settle on what to write about. I was going to rant about Andre Bauer, but I think there's enough of that already. Besides, he's been providing Sandlappers with water cooler jokes and eye-rolling quotes for years now - I don't think he's even begin to build his crescendo of absent-minded, asinine, thoughtless quibbles. I'll wait until he spews a really, REALLY good one - because he will.

So then I was going to lash Scott Brown. But then I kind of played those chips in Facebook earlier, and I'm not in the mood to rehash my rant. Besides, I have no desire to turn my laptop and this blog into a political soapbox - at least not every day.

Of course, eventually I'm going to write about being gay - I mean an entire entry, as I have some things I'd like to get off my chest. But then, I'm not keen on this blog being steered in the direction of the Ellen sitcom. I'll save it for another time.

But I couldn't not blog. I just couldn't. A friend of mind once made an analogy (though not referring to blogging) about biting into a golden apple and having your teeth caught in place. It feels like that. It's a nagging sensation that you can't escape.

Is it writer's block? I couldn't settle on a subject tonight, and every time I did, I shot down the idea before the first sentence was typed. Sure, I have plenty to argue about, plenty to rant about, but I'm not in a ranting mood. Besides, nobody wants to hear me gripe yet again.

My Unborn Child, (hereafter referred to as the D.F. - for Devil's Footprints) on the other hand, has begun to kick. It kicks hard. I'm waiting for several hours of alone time with which I can really start cranking it out, (as I need alone time to really write). But I've been squeezing some things in here and there. By here and there, I mean that at the end of each night, I've been pumping out ten to twenty pages. But I want hours - and hours - to really devote to it. The longer I write continuously, the better I'm able to put ideas into words. It's like when you haven't typed in weeks, but after a few hours, you're up to seventy or eighty words per minute.

So I thought about putting some of it on here. No, and huh uh. I started to, but for some reason I feel far more exposed when someone reads my fiction than I do as I write this blog. Somehow, I can put out in the internets what I was feeling when I lost a parent, or how I struggle with my identity - but when it comes to writing what Jamie Riley, David Easterly, and Nora Ramsey (three main characters in the D.F.) are up to, I clam up.

Maybe the D.F. is still incubating. Maybe I'm afraid that if I expose it to the world before it's ready, it will die, drowned in my self-consciousness. So why do I not mind writing about political situations of which I am only half-aware, about feelings that I wouldn't necessarily openly divulge to my closest friends without the application of much Chardonnay, and yet - I don't want to share a made-up story?

I'm not sure if this is writer's block, or my brain telling me that I need to focus on the D.F. and get it out of my head for good. I'm not sure if I get more out of writing fiction than non-fiction. I have no idea why I feel so much more vulnerable having anyone else read the D.F. than a personal blog I put out there for all to see.

I don't imagine I'll answer any of these questions soon, but one thing is certain: For all the catharsis and emotional release I get from writing five blog entries, I get twice as much from writing a single page of fiction. After a few hours of writing I feel immensely better, as if I've just had a marathon workout.

But I'll continue this blog. I'll write it five times per week as often as I can, and hope that eventually, maybe as I get better at it - I'll start to get the same release here.

Thanks for listening. I'm hoping my "block" is cured by tomorrow.