I haven’t posted anything here for about three weeks. In fact, I haven’t done any creative writing for even longer. I have a half-written story just hanging there waiting for a conclusion. It will never be finished at this point, I fear.
I tried doing some written journaling to see if I could get my writing mojo back. That has dwindled. My fear is that my creative self has become like a cold bowl of soup — no steam and a bland savor.
I tried some arting and photography. That’s not working either. I even tried one of those self-help art books that offer suggestions like drawing your dirty beach towel draped over a chair or painting a picture of your sleeping cat.
Nothing inspires me anymore.
However, lately I have been almost obsessed with physical journals and planners. I put together a new day planner which I will junk in a few weeks to set up another one for 2016. Besides that, I have been spending huge amounts of time disassembling a four-year journal and commonplace book I just finished and redacting it into thematic sections and adding visual elements.
What is that all about?
I think I have an idea. Perhaps focusing on placing creative elements into a book form is a way of containing and controlling expressions that I may fear to let out to the world with the hope that these elements will morph into something I can let go to the world. Perhaps it is the physicality of the paper and the ink and the act of coloring, cutting, and gluing that make the act of creation a more real thing to me than just sitting at a computer monitor dealing with the ethereality of bytes and pixels.
Maybe I just need to walk away from it all for a while. Or maybe I need to plunge into it more to thoroughly explore the explosive elements that think they need to be contained in a hard cover book.
When I get my creative mojo back, I’ll let you know.