AN OPEN LETTER TO MY WRITER'S BLOCK

AN OPEN LETTER TO MY WRITER’S BLOCK, 
CURRENTLY FORCING ME TO DAWDLE AND IGNORE
THE LARGE PILE OF WORK PILED ON MY DESK
IN A MANNER ONLY DESCRIBED AS DAUNTING.

Dear Writer’s Block,

I (ironically?) write this with a heavy heart. 

I remember, with some fondness, the absence that you used to hold in my life. We had danced—once, twice, three times—but your presence had been fleeting, like the doting aunt who visits only on Christmas and always smells of ripe patchouli. Much like the former Czechoslovakia and the dim yet painful memory of Soviet hold, I could always picture you vividly in my mind. The once wrenching obscenity of my fingers to put thought to paper was never far from my thoughts, even in my most prolific moments. But I thought, with the foolish optimism of Duran Duran’s reunion tour, that these were things of the past. 

It was an optimism born from the potent combination of naivety and good fortune; I took the ability to translate the jumbled lightshow of my synapses into English for granted, leaving vast quantities of work to the very last hour. I became boastful, morbidly so, joining MacBeth, Caesar, MC Hammer and any number of tragic heroes, all contesting for the most outrageous methods to display our hubris. There is, after all, such a peculiar glamour to the art of self-destruction. 

But now…now, that I have supped on crow for these many weeks—I have tasted my own medicine, and it is BITTER INDEED. It takes hours to pen a sentence, days to force myself before the awkward glow of the computer screen…weeks to emerge from the other end of my misery with anything resembling substance! 

Writer’s Block, I beg you: have mercy. Leave me to my fragile devices, and in turn, I will be…I will…damn it. What’s the word? It’s like, um, when you’re…shy, but not shy, more like, you’re obedient? Aw, geez…I guess I’ll just check Facebook. I could also use another cup of tea…it’s been like, ten minutes since I took a break…

Damn it. Not again. 

I reluctantly leave it at this, you magnificent bastard,

Jill

ps. ACQUIESCENT! I’ll be...oh, never mind. 

originally published Sunday, March 2nd 2008