The Writing Withdrawal of Doom
Posted by Luther D. Powell on August 30, 2012
Aside from these very blogs, I have not written much of anything since moving back to Bowling Green. Not because I haven’t had time, not because I’ve been seeing people and going places, but rather, I just…haven’t. Part lack of motivation, part depression, part watching-kung-fu-movies-with-my-roommates-instead, I suppose. What really blows my mind about the span of time without writing is that, last night, I wrote some. And by some, I mean a lot.
It happened out of NOWHERE. I didn’t even plan on it last night! I was drawing a bit, eating a lot, hanging around the apartment, then BOOM. Thought I’d sit down and take a peek at the ol’ MS. Filled three pages, no problem. Granted, that’s probably way less than the average published-novel-author, but for me, after having gone so long without it, it was like Heaven. Listening to music, admiring my fancy-schmancy new font, lounging with my laptop on the bed. It felt great.
Writing has become my medication. Too long without it, and my mind grows numb. I don’t get writers block too often, I’ll just have phases where I don’t feel like writing. I get plenty of ideas; most of them I grab from my daily life. The parts of my life that I wish I could tell others about but can’t quite vocalize, I write into the characters from my imagination. My experiences bleed into these word documents and journals, and I feel like although I come up with cool and new ideas, I don’t really gain from them until I can see the words in front of me. I learn as I write. So then, how is it that I can just bail out of it suddenly and go a while without it? I don’t understand it, myself.
See, with art, drawing and all that, I don’t even have to feel like drawing to get a nice drawing done. If I know I have to complete something, I do it. That’s not the case with writing. I really need to feel it first, but half the time, I’ll feel like it and be in class or something else that prevents me from separating my conscious mind from body. What are some ways that you, readers and writers, hold tight to the writing-fire? How do you avoid the withdrawal?
It’s so odd to me, that I could get depressed and NOT feel like writing, because most of the times that I feel like writing (sad as it sounds) are spurred on by my more negative emotions. When I’m not enjoying the world I live in or the life I’m living, I invest more into the lives I create in my head (context is EVERYTHING). So, what do I need to do to get myself in the mood without being in a lame mood? Truly, writing horror has always been heavily-motivated by sadness and gloom, (just ask Edgar Allan Poe!… yeah…) but it doesn’t have to be. My writing doesn’t THRIVE on sadness and gloom, that’s just the most ideal state for me to be in whenever I want to come up with something uber-creepy.
Am I the only writer who gets these moments of withdrawal? I can admit, being a Christian and wanting to write for God, part of me believes that the enemy finds much pleasure in distracting me from my writings, though it’s hard to recognize some distractions. When you’re a writer, doing anything other than writing can become a ‘distraction’ if you think about it that way, but one must live to understand how to give characters life. So then, what am I living which has pulled me away from the lives of all my brain-children? How can I replenish my dose, get my fixes consistent again? Advice is much appreciated, readers! God bless!
Luther D. Powell
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