Writers always feel that their writing is in a crisis. Always. It’s like a constant, natural state of being.
Perhaps it’s because we are all sticklers for proper grammar, spelling and composition.
Perhaps it’s because we measure ourselves by the great writers of the past and constantly fall short.
Perhaps it’s because as a writer, we are expected to produce breathtaking pieces of written work and we feel this burden immensely upon our shoulders.
Or perhaps it’s all of the above.
When we surface for air from being deep within our internal pools however, we find that hey. Our writing is fine. Really, it is.
…Until we start experiencing these symptoms.
You’re in the flow of writing when, in the drone of keyboard keys being tapped away, you suddenly realize something. This sounds eerily familiar. This topic– these very words– I swear I’ve written them before. Like a million times before. This feels so worn, and yet I’m still writing it.
Spelling and grammar are suddenly awry.
It’s like you’ve entered some twilight zone and you can’t seem to write correct English anymore. Words and sentences seem to be so wrong. What’s happening? Am I in the Upside Down or something?
You’re writing your own piece, spawned from your own mind and from your own passions, feelings and interests, and yet it bores you. You find your writing to be such a snoozefest, it’s almost disgusting. Something is definitely wrong here.
The first line doesn’t seem to work.
It just doesn’t. It’s just not… there. And after the 468th revision, it seems like it never will be.
And of course, the most dreaded–
The blank page of doom.
You’ve been staring at that blinking cursor for what feels like eternity. It’s mocking you and you know it. Every blink is a jab in your soul. But no matter how hard you try, no matter how hard you push inside your mind to find the words to fight that tiny blinking bar, you really can’t. The blinking bar laughs at you.
It’s easy to get sucked into a whirlpool of self-pity and self-doubt once these symptoms arise, and for the most part, you will. But you must trudge on. We must go on. Because that is the only way we can escape this crisis.
Endure the mockings of the blinking cursor. Suffer through the pain of a seemingly bland and exhausting topic. Ram your keyboard keys down if must, just to get that coveted, final version of your first sentence.
Because at the end of it all, you shall behold your finished piece and be victorious.