I will be honest; I haven't written anything since long (except for various product campaigns to earn some extra pocket money) because I have wanted to write something profound, only profound, and have patiently, way too patiently and passively, waited for inspiration.
I have wanted to write something that would match posts in my previous blog- an aesthetic love poem or a moving short story with a social/political subtext perhaps or at least a decent social commentary. I have wanted to inspire the same depth of feeling in my readers, and in myself, that many of my previous works did. I have wanted my posts to be food for thought, and not just a one-time read.
I have often browsed through both of my blogs, gone through some of my previous works and have been daunted. I have sometimes wondered how could the same person have such a chronic writer's block going on! After all, do I not still have the same muse? Am I not still in love, and in awe of God's brilliant creation? Am I still not a psychologist, a feminist or at least someone who reads books? I still have all the fodder I need! I could definitely do book reviews, if not anything else. Then it hit me. Though I may have lacked in inspiration, I have also lacked in pro-activeness.
I don't remember the last time I sat in front of my laptop, doing absolutely nothing, staring into the screen, attempting to conjure up something to write. I guess I wasn't even aware that I had give up by not lifting a pen before some great inspiration flooded me. Who is to say that inspiration has to come first, and then the pen has to touch the paper? Who is to even say that I haven't missed moments of great clarity and imagination because of not penning down my thoughts immediately?
Writer's block is an evil monster, all the more because it is clever. It makes one feel as if there's nothing wrong in waiting for the perfect moment of synchrony. It makes one forget that sometimes, one has to sweat it out, and inspiration present or not, go ahead and work to create the perfect moment. All of one's works need not be pearls. Even Shakespeare has critics. Lastly, this.