Writer's Block; It's Still Here

Here's another one of those posts where I just want to let you in on a little secret, which you might have gathered from the title. I'm still suffering with writer's block. Over the last few months it's taken a toll on my journaling as well as my poetry and my posts. I don't know what to write about and even the suggestions people have been giving me haven't helped. These suggestions have actually had a counter effect than intended as they've just made the writer's block worse. I am grateful that people have wanted to help me by making these kind suggestions.

The biggest issue causing the writer's block is the fact that I want to be original with my writing. I want to write an original story. I want to write something that hadn't already been written about. I don't want to 'borrow' plot outlines from various different writers who's work I love. In a way, I've wondered if my writing has been effected by the fact I'm not really reading any more. I do have the time to read but not the mental energy to keep up with the plot outline of the two books I'm currently trying to read. Even though I am struggling to pick these books up, on the rare occasions I do, I really enjoy reading them. Another issue I've been struggling with, in regards to the writer's block, is that any stories I've thought about writing haven't been able to hold their own on paper. What people don't know about my writing, is that the stories speak through my fingers. I type what I see in my mind's eye and often ninety nine percent of the stories don't get further than a few sentences because I can't see far enough into the story to write it down in a sound manner. I want to be able to write with honour, without feeling forced. I want to give my characters a voice (If I can't hear them, I can't write), and since they speak through my imagination, I want to do my imagination justice. So maybe its my imagination that's currently got issues.

Maybe if I wrote this slightly differently,  it'll be easier to grasp what I mean with the type of writer's block I have. Years ago, I used to write because I loved to write. My imagination was vivid and colourful. But now, I feel like I'm sitting on a windowsill, like Ash in the photo on the right, unable to clearly see through the glass. I should point out now, the window is partially open so I can hear what's coming through the window. On the other side of the glass is a multitude of stories waiting to be written, but I can't see them properly because of the gauze that's covering the glass. I can't lift it, so I'm waiting for it to lift so I can write what I see. I've tried to write what I've heard and again it didn't get far because I couldn't see clearly. All I can do is wait until the gauze is lifted and I can go back to writing from my imagination like I used to do when I was in my teens.

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