Un-Stuck

It seems like every couple of months I fall back to this blog like a life preserver, like it's going to save me, convince me (and others) that I am a writer who loves to create worlds out of words, and despite insecurities and lack of faith in my craft, push myself to post and release my babies out into the inter-world. But then I fall off the wagon, let other things take priority and forget for a while because sometimes it's simply too hard, and the increasing degree of failure cramps my fingers up and wipes my brain of all the words, simple and not. So, if you're still here, I am going to try again. I am going to get back on the wagon and continue down this path, hoping that one of these times my silly little experiments and exercises work and the easy flow of writing will come back to me. Let's stick to a schedule of Sunday and Wednesdays. Maybe I can stick to that.

I started writing at the time most people probably say they do. Pre-teen angst: so many feelings but never wanting to talk, begging for someone to understand but convincing myself that no one could possibly understand at all. So, I wrote. Pretty melodramatic, cringe-worthy doom and gloom pieces but even in their darkest form, there was something so raw about them, something terribly naïve that has kept me stuck in the moment so many years later. Stuck. There’s a word that I’ve come to loathe. A word constantly used as an excuse, a crutch. Because if you’re stuck, people develop a form of understanding. Like some uncontrollable force is keeping you still, stalling your progress, and there’s not much you can do until you just become un-stuck. How? No one knows. One day the powers that be will release you from this cursed hold and you’ll be able to carry on, years, months, days later, until something else comes along that you can’t quite grab the reigns on and you become s...