by Jill Dutton

Created on: June 12, 2009

Breaking through the Blocks

A few years ago I experienced a sever case of writer's block. I was under deadline to complete my editor's letter for Evolving Woman magazine. I wasn't consumed by any lack of ideas, but from an outright inability to make or let myself sit down and write. The "mood" was just not there.

I've never considered myself a Great Writer, but I've always been pleased with how easily writing comes to me. If something needs written, I sit down and write. Not that time. I began to worry I would never write again. Still, I thought salvation was at hand because my family and I were about to take our annual trip to Colorado. I was sure that the inspiration, desire and motivation I lacked were all waiting for me in my rejuvenating haven in the mountains. Past visits had always renewed and intensified my creative urge-why would this trip be any different? It was.

I spent a glorious week with my family, scrambling on boulders, exploring the creeks for stones, smelling the brisk air. My mind filled (just as it had at home) with random excuses: It's too crowded here. I need quiet. If it wasn't so cold outside I could sit on the patio-then I would be inspired. A few times, out of dire necessity because of the fast-approaching deadline, I wrote a few drab morsels of prose. But the "mood" never came.

During the drive home from Colorado I was still uninspired. I finished the last of the reading material I brought on the trip. There was nothing left to do. I stared out the window for a few hours with my notebook on my lap. Not only was the mood not there, I didn't want to write. Some huge rebellion left from childhood was raging inside me like fire fed by oxygen.

Then I tried author Hal Zina Bennett's advice of finding that special place in my mind so I could write anywhere. Amazingly, the place I went to was a spot in my own backyard. In my thoughts, I sat on our gazebo with the herb garden in front of me, the cosmos along the edge bending softly in the breeze, with the winding path through the woods to my right. I sat there for a few moments enjoying the view, taking in the sound of the frogs singing in the pond. I saw myself pick up a pad and pen to begin to write.

I opened my eyes in the car again. I felt better, more relaxed, but I still didn't want to write. But this time as I gazed out the window, random thoughts began to race through my mind. Other ideas followed. So many ideas that I felt as if I couldn't stop myself from writing them down.

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