Not having to earn my living at writing, or having an adoring audience to please means that writers block isn’t something I’ve encountered. I have no illusions as to how good my work will be, so if my story lines hit the skids I just switch hit it off into another tangent, however ridiculous the new storyline might be. Those words are my little creations and I care about them just as much. No my block is language block, and I am sure it’s to do with aging, and this content delivered age we live in. The age thing manifests itself when I am on a roll. I can be rocketing towards the end of a fantastic sentence, with the perfect turn of phrase to end it, when poof! It’s gone! And can I remember what I was going to write. I imagine that little wordy snippet, dancing just out of reach, cocking a snoot at my struggling brain. It happened this morning. I was sitting in the car waiting for one of my kid’s school to open, tapping away. Desperate to capture the words before the doors opened when it happened. I was at a loss. Should I put in some inferior phrase, and go back to it hoping, probably in vain that my gem would revel itself. No, not this time. I metaphorically stamped my feet, stated that “I’m not playing any more, it’s my ball and I’m going home”, and stomped off. That’ll show me!
The other theory is that we’ve all bought into this multi-dimensional would whizzing through the airwaves, down wires, through screens and speakers. Don’t get me wrong, I love the internet, and all that it brings, but socially we have embraced it too wholeheartedly, almost unconsciously, and made it an indispensible part of our daily routines. This is all well and good if we did it in a balanced way, but we have rushed at it, lapping it up as I imagine indigenous peoples lapped up refined food, and alcohol from the various invading explorers over history. We devour social networks, bathing in a dozen communication method, paring down out language to shoehorn our messages into 140 character blocks. We check our smart phones and tablets by the minute, getting nervous if we are away from the social cloud for too long. As I alluded to rich language is fast becoming a victim of our need to relay and receive messages as fast as possible. Tv programs, web pages, news, movies, all written in a rapid development style, to be the forefront of today's attention. I am one of the worst offenders. I used to read a lot, at least two novels on the go at once. Now I barely open a printed book at all. I have a kindle, pc, tablet, even my phone where I could devour fantastic pieces of literature, but I don’t because there is always something more instant that can fill my mind and time, preventing me from thinking for myself. When you stop thinking, it is very difficult to start again.
So here's my plan. I am going to pick up a book and read it. Not just a page or two at a sitting, but really read it. I will drink in the prose, mull and digest it. I will let my mind flow over, in around and through the words, words that some other human being has strung together in a meaningful way to get a message, a story across that can’t be told in a short sharp snippet. I am going to find words that are unfamiliar to me, and find out what they mean, when they are used.
Hopefully, there’s a chance, however small, that doing this will enrich my vocabulary, exercise my brain, and bring a little more colour to my writing.
And if this all sounds pompous and pretentious then so be it. Maybe the would needs a little more pomposity, and now and again, what's the harm in pretending!
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