I would be stuck
Sitting at my desk
With a piece of paper
Unable to write
Not knowing what to say
Or how to say it.
I felt like a painter
Sitting at an easel
Not knowing what to paint
Not knowing how to make
That first brush stroke.
*
I knew I had a writer’s block
I just didn’t know what
To do about it.
I finally managed to gut it out
And began to write
I wanted to write a book
So I hid out in a library
Way at the back
So no one could find me
Or ask me
What I was doing
It seemed pretty weird
At the time.
I just didn’t know why
I needed to do it that way.
Finally, I finished a book.
Then it was time
To send it to publishers
That felt more scary
Than writing had been
I still didn’t know why,
But I managed to gut it out
And sent my book
Off to publishing companies
*
Then I had that most amazing
Phone call.
A publisher called me back.
“I loved your book. I spent
the entire weekend reading it.
I couldn’t put it down.”
You’d think
That was really exciting news
For a writer.
Instead – I was terrified.
Crippled with fear.
It seemed pretty weird
At the time
I just didn’t know why that was.
*
Then a second publisher was interested
I tried to gut it out
And keep moving forward.
I couldn’t do it.
I told myself
“I’ve just lost touch
with the project.
I need time to reflect.”
I walked away from the book
And the publishers.
*
I got so frustrated,
That at one point
I wrote a poem about it.
*
“The desire to express,
I was taught to repress
Has caused me a block
I wish to unlock.
*
I pick up the pen,
I start writing again,
I feel the flow,
And then I stop.”
*
I went on my way
For a number of years,
Then felt led to write a second book.
It was to be a novel,
About a part of
My Dad’s healing journey.
Writing that book led
To a grand adventure
That included
Working on wheat harvest
To explore my Dad’s path.
I came home
I managed to gut it out,
And wrote that novel.
Again,
Publishers were interested
And I felt déjà vu
As the whole thing happened again.
I walked away from that book,
Saying
“I’ve lost touch with the project,
I need time to reflect.”
*
By this point I was so frustrated
I decided
If I couldn’t get past this whole
Writer’s block,
I would just take up golf.
And at one point,
I did just that.
I bought some golf clubs
Determined to leave writing behind
Forever.
*
But the desire to write
Was just that strong
I had to keep going.
It led to a most unexpected place.
Back to my grandmother’s house
When I was eight years old.
I remembered something she had said.
She had asked me
What I wanted to be
When I grew up.
With the joy of a child I said
“Oh, I want to be a famous writer.”
She frowned, and said,
“Oh no, you don’t want to do that.”
Puzzled, I fell for the bait,
And asked: “Why not?”
With an evil grin on her face,
She said,
“Because if you do that,
They’ll call you crazy
And lock you up.”
*
So there it was
The reason
My writing
Would get locked up
The reason I hid in a library
To write a book
The reason I wouldn’t
Let my books
See the light of publication.
*
Now as an adult,
I could write off
What she had said
As the ramblings of a somewhat
Nutty old grandma.
But when I was eight,
I couldn’t figure that out,
Especially when she told me
“Don’t talk about this.”
*
And later I remembered,
She hammered the nails
Of her evil intentions
Into my heart
With extremely vicious
Lies and actions
Abusive and cruel,
Which built a wall
Around my writing
That I couldn’t overcome.
*
But by bringing to the surface
What had locked up
My writing for
Forty five years,
At least
I had something
To work on.
It led to a lot of hard work,
Releasing the pain,
Overcoming what had been
Burned into my soul.
I knew I had made
A lot of progress,
When I published my first book.
*
Now I am writing
My next book
The story of how Grandma
Tried to poison my soul
And my journey
To overcome the writer’s block
She gave me.
I will expose those lies
To the light
And let them wither up and die
Like lies deserve to do.
**************
Photo Credits:
Images From – The Microsoft Office Clip Art Collection
“Pen on Paper” Completed in 2004 to serve as the basis for the publicity of a retreat for authors entitled Writers Refuge. jlseagull @ flickr.com Creative Commons. Some Rights Reserved.
“Attack of the Lunesta Moth (cropped)”; original by Maxintosh @ Flickr.com. Creative Commons. Some Rights Reserved.
“Self Portrait, Walking Away: On one of the jetties at Gräsvik” Misteraitch @flickr.com Creative Commons, some rights reserved.
“The Wheat Harvest” the slowlane @ flickr.com. Creative Commons. Some Rights Reserved.
“Mud Golf on Orcas,” by wiselyb @ flickr.com. Creative Commons. Some rights reserved.
“Scary_04″ Aliwest44 @ Flickr.com. Creative Commons. Some Rights Reserved.
“Locked Up” Derekskey @ flickr.com. Creative Commons. Some Rights Reserved.
“Big Chain” Shaycam @flickr.com Creative Commons. Some rights reserved.
Book Cover copyright by Dan L. Hays
How My Writing Got Locked Up.”
Thoughts Along The Road to Healing 