A Tad Premature


Thought my writer’s block was gone.  Not quite.  I sit looking at my keyboard waiting for funny thoughts to come to me.  Something, anything, just a little bit funny.  Who wants to read serious, right?  I want the funny.  I need the funny, and it feels like my funny is still missing.

I read my favorite author’s latest book and never cracked a smile.  Have I lost my sense of humor?  Was the book not as good as the previous one?  Was it just the mood I was in while reading?  Why do I have so many fucking questions?  Seems I’m always marking a question.  Why don’t I know any of the answers?  I’m 51, theoretically, I should know about 50% of everything.

I pull up my Twitter account and start tapping keys.  I rarely have a thought to post there.  Sometimes I do, but most days my mind remains blank.   Still.  My mind has gone Zen on its own, with no thought at all for the person I used to be.  Some people may say that I’m much more interesting now that I have nothing to say.

I’ve been walking a lot lately, thinking it would be good for me and help with the mental block.  Walked miles around gardens last week, and after three days rest, I popped out of bed this morning and took the dogs for a walk.  Sometimes I still think I’m normal, but my legs quickly reminded me of my condition.  The dogs were excited.  It’s like a walk is the most important event in their life.  Even as big as the one is, he’s not a dog to depend on to pull you up steep hills.  That I had to do on my own, resting at the top of a rise before finishing the climb.

Walking the dogs in the wildness should have been a mellow experience, instead I kept looking ahead wondering how far I could make before turning around.  It wasn’t long before the hills won and I turned for home, all thoughts of writing leaving my head.  I feel sick to my stomach and my eyes feel funny.  It was hotter than I’d realized and I was hot and sweaty and uncomfortable.

So after breakfast and a shower I opened my laptop hopefully.  I read the tweets that had come in over night.  I checked my facebook and thought about adding another photo or two.  I checked my Etsy site.  No sales.  This day just gets better and better.  I should read on how to better market my store.  It’s not funny reading and so I put it off, again.

I guess what I’m saying is, while walking is helping loosen things up in my head, it’s going to be a while before I get my brain back into writing shape.  Also I’ve admitted to myself I’m not as funny as many out there, and will work on accepting that.  I also realize my life’s a little lacking in stimulation since retiring.  Another lunch with friends from work may be in order.

Writing by its very nature is solitary work, but if you have no experiences, what can you write about?

 

 

2 thoughts on “A Tad Premature

  1. Hi Apple, that non-funny funk has happened to me many times. The bleak feeling, for me, comes with an odd inner silence and gloom. It’s noticeable when you read what should be funny and it doesn’t strike a chord inside you. Mine passes if given time and I hope yours does too!

    1. Thanks George! I am already coming out of the funk. I know my writing is coming back, it just needs time. Maybe I’ll even re-read Christopher Moore (a very funny author).

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