Writer's Block, Comedy and Insurance Companies

I tell my students that there' no such thing as writer's block. 

I claim that there is this: unwillingness to do the work (because writing is hard work and anyone who tells you anything different is lying), procrastination and fear. (The fear comes in when you worry too much that when you do actually write, what you write won't be good enough.)

I recommend all the tricks for getting started -- lists, clustering and the always-dreaded free-writing. (Free-writing = writing non-stop for a set period of time, and it is more than a bit trying on the brain and the hand.) I tell them to start in the middle if they don't have a beginning or an end. Or start at the end if there's no beginning or middle. I trot out one of my favorite books, Writing Without the Muse, for ideas and inspiration. 

I am so full of mettle, advice and, hopefully support, I just don't know what to do with myself.

There is always something to write, I say. It may not be profound, but as long as you can put pen to paper, there is always something to write. 

And, until lately, I believed there was always humor. As a friend told me long ago, "When you're either going to laugh or cry, laugh." I've tried to keep that in mind. I've even been called irreverent because of it. Another old saying goes that "the only difference between comedy and tragedy is a laugh track."I believe that, too.

But, right now, no matter how hard I work at it, I can't seem to do enough laughing, and I'm having a really hard time putting the writing and the humor together. My free-writing does not lead to fodder for good blog posts. (My latest free-writing? Too many sentences as to what it means to be "enough.") I look at the chore list on the refrigerator in the office -- a chore list grown-ups are supposed to follow of their own free will -- and I want to laugh. Three months ago, I think I would have. But, the last time I found myself in the break room, I just sighed. I sighed, pulled my Lean Cuisine out of the microwave and went back to my desk.

I'm not surprised life isn't what I thought it would be. I'm surprised my primary coping mechanism isn't kicking in like it used to.

So, I apologize for the tone of recent posts. I wish they were funnier. I decided that no matter what I had to do to pay the mortgage, I would still update this blog at least twice a week. I promised that I would still write because if I give up on that, I really will have given up, and that is something I refuse to do. I want to write, and the best thing about writing is that when that's all you want to do, you can just do it. (Finding a reader is the hard part. Finding an editor even harder.) I say to work more and work harder. (Another lovely thought, but difficult in practice when no one wants what you've already written and each day seems to bring the return of more and more envelopes I addressed and stamped myself.) I try to remember that the difference between optimism and pessimism isn't just about how you see the glass, but about focusing on what you have rather than what you don't have. I keep in mind that on some days just trying is enough.

Mostly, I'm tired, and I tear up every time I see the Allstate commercial where everybody quotes FDR from the Great Depression.

If you're also having trouble getting through insurance company ads without crying, know that you're not alone. If you've got it all figured out, I'd love to know your secrets (unless they involve Jesus -- what goes on between me and Jesus is what goes on between me and Jesus, and I like to keep that off the Internet). 

In the meantime, I promise I'll do the best I can to get the funny back -- for myself and for those of you kind enough to stop by and read my thoughts every so often.