After ages, finally. I feel like I've can write.
The past few days have gone in extreme self doubt and rueful admiration at everything others wrote. Everyone seemed to be able to write so fluently, effortlessly, I thought. And then I reminisced about the time when I wrote that way too; writing stuff I really liked in a just a few minutes, at the first attempt, not even having to edit it.
I'm 19, I have time and age and whatelsenot on my side, there was probably no need for the alarms I raised within myself. But words seemed to have been replaced by mundane, lower stuff, stuff that I didn't even realize was there, I couldn't drag them out, the correct words, when I needed them. It was like selective amnesia. Freaky.
Grammar escaped me at times. And at those times: panic. And dread, at having lost it.
I'd be writing a sentence and in the second half, I'd have no idea about how to go about it anymore. I'd end up rephrasing the whole thing to something more manageable. It was humiliating, even to myself. I talked out loud to myself, and it got worse. It was like English had indeed become the second language for me, like it supposedly is. I couldn't string together even a few lines of a poem, I was too low for that. Everyone seemed to be blooming and writing and everything.
Maybe there's some improvement now. Slow, convalescing, but there indeed. Words still escape me, and there's still panic and a weird sort of grief. But I hope it continues, the change.
Was it a bad writer's block? Are they this way? I doubt. It seemed pathological, but I may be the weeniest bit of a hypochondriac, so we can't say.
The past few days have gone in extreme self doubt and rueful admiration at everything others wrote. Everyone seemed to be able to write so fluently, effortlessly, I thought. And then I reminisced about the time when I wrote that way too; writing stuff I really liked in a just a few minutes, at the first attempt, not even having to edit it.
I'm 19, I have time and age and whatelsenot on my side, there was probably no need for the alarms I raised within myself. But words seemed to have been replaced by mundane, lower stuff, stuff that I didn't even realize was there, I couldn't drag them out, the correct words, when I needed them. It was like selective amnesia. Freaky.
Grammar escaped me at times. And at those times: panic. And dread, at having lost it.
I'd be writing a sentence and in the second half, I'd have no idea about how to go about it anymore. I'd end up rephrasing the whole thing to something more manageable. It was humiliating, even to myself. I talked out loud to myself, and it got worse. It was like English had indeed become the second language for me, like it supposedly is. I couldn't string together even a few lines of a poem, I was too low for that. Everyone seemed to be blooming and writing and everything.
Maybe there's some improvement now. Slow, convalescing, but there indeed. Words still escape me, and there's still panic and a weird sort of grief. But I hope it continues, the change.
Was it a bad writer's block? Are they this way? I doubt. It seemed pathological, but I may be the weeniest bit of a hypochondriac, so we can't say.
Haha, been there :)
ReplyDeleteWriter's blocks are so horrid. and no one understands.
Well that's a feeling I'm undeniably familiar with.
ReplyDeleteI've realized that when I'm stressed/forcing myself to write, I just can't write. It's scary sometimes. Oh, and during the exams I can't find the right words at all. I call it my Acute Loss of Vocab Syndrome.
It's horrible. :(
Koo, the writer's fraternity does, have heart. ;)
ReplyDeleteAsad, haha, that's quite a name you have for it, there. :D
ReplyDeleteIt's scary, yeah. :(
I suffer from this more often than I'd like to. :(
ReplyDeleteAw. :(
ReplyDeleteIt does get over sooner than later. :)