This humble scribe has never suffered from a real “writer’s block.” I have born writer’s laziness, writer’s fear, writer’s apathy, writer’s yesterdays, writer’s tomorrows. But not a writer’s “block.” I still find the freedom to write by sacrificing any inclination to be called “a writer.”
I rise and fall in stages. Similar to a cascade-like effect. Therefore I oft-times cycle anew a semi-favorite creation upgraded from a quondam illustration. (in modern English, please: “Therefore I often recycle a former post that I like, having edited and slightly upgrading the original”).
I have a certain paternal partiality for this little rendering I did way back in the first quarter of twenty-nineteen. I guess it is fitting and proper that I should like it as I am the one which rendered it into being. Some people call that being the “author.” But also it was the first-born of its kind for me. I have heard it said that the word “render” is very close in description to bringing something into being without consent. That sounds very like parenthood, n’est-ce pas?
However I gave this writing my full permission to come into being. The composition itself had no say in the matter, in that it did not give its consent to be formed in the exactitude of how I composed it in every detail. This little rebel, she fought with me throughout her process to completion. That also endears her to my heart a little closer.
Having created it in the first quarter of the year, and personally liking this thing I wrought, I do believe it was only fitting I bring it forward to the ending quarter of the year. Forward to the end? Can that be correct? Somehow it seems it should be “forward to the beginning,” or “back to the end.” Now that’s becoming too convoluted. I’ll stop here and get some overdue sleep, then look at this after day break. I know daybreak is one word, but if it has broken it should be reflected in the spelling, don’t you agree? ~ G.W.
Down dropt the breeze,the sails dropt down/
‘Twas sad as sad could be; /
And we did speak only to break /
The silence of the sea! …Day after day, day after day /
We stuck, nor breath nor motion /
As idle as a painted ship / Upon a painted ocean.
“The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”
There are times when I lose the wind in my sails. It happens to the best of sailors, and I’m certainly not that. I’m speaking figuratively, of course, and I’m speaking of writing one more blog post while a blank page keeps staring back at me with the challenge of a blinking cursor that says, “no more words!”
Sometimes the thoughts, ideas, and words flood into my mind so fast that the sails of the old schooner/ billowing/ filled with wind/ threaten to capsize the whole vessel. At such time it’s all I can do to quickly reel in and capture notes of the swirling ideas for further development in the future.
But at times of the blinking cursor, no stored words or notes apply. No words. No pictures. No ideas. No sketches. No nothing. Not a ripple. Not even a cat’s paw upon the surface of a glassy sea. Sit at my desk, half-closed eyes looking at that computer screen. Vacant. Empty. Blank. Stare.
And. So! In the vast, barren, desolation of nothingness, a big “SO WHAT – I DON’T CARE!” out of nowhere comes flooding in to fill the void.
That demon, apathy, floods the bilges and tries to sink, weigh down, or otherwise make the helm unresponsive to any set course of headway. What to do? “Who cares?” “What does it matter anyway?” Apathy! “I don’t write for profit.” Apathy. “My existence does not depend on being a writer of words on a page, screen, abandoned building walls, nor the temptation of a granular sandy beach in a tropical sun. My life is not dependent on words.” Apathy. Challenging. Taunting, desiring to have me. To take over entirely by causing me to mount a mutiny against — myself.
“BUT, (I say) I need words to organize and describe the illustrative snapshots. The parts and parcels. The yet-to-be-organized pictures, murals, illuminative designs I have in my mind that I want to communicate to – well — to whomever.” I begin a defensive counter-attack. “Jehovah Nissi – the Lord is my banner!” It is under Him that I serve. I am not writing for my ideas, for my financial gain, neither for fame nor fortune. I’m writing to make Him known, to magnify – to glorify – my Savior — from my perspective, sure. But who’s perspective do I know – do I have the experience of – other than my own? And what person who writes can say any more? For better or worse, who can describe more?”
Apathy reels, daunted! It’s unsure of its position. It begins to vacate the bilges. It’s backing away, uncertain of its footing, with wide-eyed concern. The mutiny is weakening. Its desire to have me is lessening. It is draining away back into the wide-open seas. The battle belongs to the LORD! It is His to have the Victory, once again! Trust and obey. Trust and obey, a good thing to remember.
A good thing to remember whether the sails are windless and the vessel becalmed or the seas are thrashing under heavy weather with sails ripping and timbers creaking. Trust and obey the Captain, under Whose banner we serve.
“Today, if you hear his voice,
do not harden your hearts
as you did in the rebellion.” *
“and that this entire assembly may know that the Lord does not save with the sword or with the spear; for the battle is the Lord’s and He will hand you (apathy, or whatever situation) over to us.” 1 Samuel 17:47
Some day this war will end. When it’s over it will be over. Until then it is just keep putting one foot in front of the next. Never give up, never give in! -g.w
*Hebrews 3: 15
Header Graphic: Artnet – “Becalmed”