Breaking Up With Writer's Block - 1/26

[Bleyre]

Dear Writer's Block,

It's not you, it's me. I mean, really. Why? Why did I get the idea to sit myself in front of the computer for a good part the day? Why? I ask myself that question all the time when you’re around.
We’ve had some good times, I know. Like the day when you just wouldn’t go away so we both went out and got drunk just because there was nothing else to do. Oh and then there was that one time when you stayed with me for a week because you didn’t want to go back to your place. You used my toaster, and drank five cups of coffee using my delicious Colombian beans. I was raging that day. But then there are those days when I just love having you around because it gives me an excuse to take that long awaited nap I’ve been longing for.
Alas, my dear writer’s block, my muse-scaring companion. It must end. Now, before I give into your grips and throw away the USB stick.

[missmariet]

Dear Writer's Block,

It's not you, it's me.

I slowly sink into the abyss,
you're like a sedative to me.
I feel further from myself,
further from God,
when I am with you.

Comfortably we sit,
not moving.
The fog builds around us;
Baby, I cannot see clearly.

Each time I step away, I begin to feel alive again.
But I get pulled back in,
slow, steady riptide,
you pull me in baby.

I have to let you go sweet lover,
each day it haunts me,
cause I live in the dark.
If only you could push me out of this (I wish with all my heart you would)
but instead you enable me.

Our blurry world,
of safe and secure,
no more growth,
I cannot sit any longer.

I'm sorry I can't
I need myself.

Take care of yourself,
best of luck.

Love always,
Marie

[saffronbleu]

Dear Writers Block,

It's not you... It's me... You were a fabulous companion. Quiet, never argued. Avoided fights I would try to start. You never challenged my opinion. You never made me feel inadequate. In fact, I felt like your trophy. I felt secure in your strong arms. Remember when we didn't leave the house for a week. You bought me flowers that one time and all the girls were jealous. You have a good job and a steady income. You have always been reliable even when I was flighty. Even when I would leave you for months and then come crawling back beaten down by life. My mom would probably call you a catch.

I need a fight. I want someone to disagree with me every once in a while and have a heated debates on senseless subjects. I can't keep going back and forth. I can't keep leading you on like this, calling you up when there is no one else around. We have spent too many nights on either end of the sofa watching TV programs that neither of us like. I need more and you deserve more. You will make some one really happy, I know you will. You won't even have to try.

It's so not you though. Its me. I need to find myself.

XOXO - Heather

[LynBergeson]

Writer's Block,

I'm outta here.  I took my pen and spiral and I don't want anything else.   You can have the self-doubt, puttering and mundane activities.  I can't use them.  They just kept me from sitting down and writing.  And no, I don't want those Rolling Stone magazines.  The shiny pictures distracted me and kept me from finishing a short story last month.  

I'd like to say it's been good and that I loved you but I think I just loved the idea of running away to jump on the trampoline instead of sitting down at the keyboard. That was fun, but too much of a good thing gets old.  And counterproductive.  See, it's not just me.  It's you too.

When we were together I felt like you were just a big black boot stepping on what I love. Between me, you and my passion to write, well, nothing gets anywhere. So I'm taking you out the the equation and wish you the best. 

But honestly, I think you need help because I am afraid for the next amazing writer who rocks your world. 

Signed - Flyin' Out Of Here

[Seductiveshy22]

Dear Writer's Block,
It's not you...it's me, actually...it's both of us. It's me being scared of what other people think of my writing and using you as an excuse to watch Maury or go over my boyfriend's house, when he's just sleeping from a long day at work. I've always wondered if I would ever be published, because my fear of rejection is so strong...it's taking over all aspects of my writing career, maybe even my life. Sometimes I sit in my room, looking at a blank page in one of my many notebooks for 5 min...and then I just give up and go watch tv or play a video game. I'm done with crying myself to sleep because I haven't completed one of my novels yet. I'm done with dismissing my ideas just because my dad doesn't believe I have the talent, and it goes back to my fear that noone will want to publish my novels/songs/poetry.
From this day forward, I'm going to write something off the top of my head every day, no matter what others would think of it...just believe in myself and I'll accomplish anything.
See you around...or not.
Love Krissie

[RCme123]

Dear Writers Block:
It's not you it's me that's been holding together this relationship together. I now know this is never going to work out between us. I need to move on and become the writer that I was meant to be. I know it's been good but we can't live like this anymore. We had some good times together. Remember the time you took me away from that story I started so many times. I must of started at least five of them but you kept me at a distance and I could not finish them. You did your job well. You gave me a chance to really see myself as I really am. I admit it, your sister the procrastinator is a good friend of mine but I need to drop both of you. I am eternally grateful for what you taught me. I have to be realistic and see you for what you really are. You have kept me from what I can become. So, can we be friends. I could call you if you want. No, well I tried. We are better off without each other. Thanks but no thanks, if I had any sense I would I drop you both down the toilet or better yet down a black hole so no other writer would loose time to you again. I hate you! I never want to see you again or your sister procrastination. You really held me back but not never again. I must of been sick to ever consider you a close friend of mine. A fiend you are! Nothing but a slimy muck on the bottom of the ocean that crept up to the surface to attach itself to some niave person. You have taken the precious time that I once held in my hands and I let it all slip away..it melted from my hands and held on to you. You of all things!! I am angry with myself for not seeing you for what you really are and I have only myself to blame because I could not see it. It's going to take some time for me to forgive myself but you never!!!!

[BemusedWit]

Dear Writers Block,

It's not you, it's me.

I know you have always been faithful to me, as you have been faithful to everyone else. I know you would never want this breakup to happen. And I don't know whether it will actually happen. But I know I have to try. You see, it has been a nice easy relationship so far. I would set out to write something, you would come and touch me, and I would forget everything. It was bliss.

I know this would hurt, but for a while, I've had the feelng we are going everywhere in this relationship, but I was actually going nowhere in everything else. You sort of stifle me. I think in any relationship, there should be a lot of freedom for each partner, with just enough compromises to keep the relationship going. But if the compromises start dominating and you begin to feel the relationship isn't worth all that, it is time to move on.

I am sorry it has to be this way. I know it will be an ugly battle, you have a huge ego and you won't let me off that easily. But I have to begin the process.

I will never forget evreything you did for my regress. The variety of your methods! From the simple but definite 'I can't do this' to letting me start and then inserting the thought, ' but is this the way I want it to go? Is it good? Sounds a bit silly. Is it really worth it? Is this the way I even want it to start?'

Oh yes, I have had my misery with you, and you have had your share of fun with me. Those times can never be forgotten. And I know it will not be a clean break, you will always stalk me. I accept that. That is the price I have to pay for letting you dictate to me for so long. But I hope, you will slacken you hold quickly, and move on to other victims. After all you have a wide field to play with

Will always remain a little bit with you for ever,
Bemused Wit

[BerthaTraeblitze]

Dear Writer’s Block,
It’s not you, it’s me. I know that’s what you’d want me to say. You never like to take the blame. But regardless, this relationship has gone sour and it’s got to end. I know you might think it’s unfair, so I compiled a neat list, without your help, so you’ll see where I’m coming from.
Reason number one, you’re a no-good free loader! While I begged you to cooperate with me, so we could try to fix this, you ignored me, successfully raiding my pantry of all my peanut butter and oreos, hiding my favorite pink bunny slippers somewhere where I’ll never find them, and spilling a bottle of flat soda pop all over my brilliant new economically friendly light bulbs in the process.
Reason number two, you cheated on me! With all of my friends! Yeah, secret’s out Writer’s Block. They confessed that you’d been hounding them ever since I introduced you, that you wouldn’t get off their backs. A little too literal for me. It’s going to take weeks for me to get that mental picture out of my head. Thanks so much.
Reason number three, you give me absolutely no breathing room! I can’t focus around you. Every time I try to get any work done, I’ve got you breathing down my neck. Seriously? I barely had any time to myself to write this stinking letter without you on top of me. So yeah, we’re done.
Glad to be parting,
Bertha

[PamG]

Dear Writer's Block,

It's not you, it's me. Actually, you are part of me. I dredged you up and created you from a dark fearful place during the accident. As my friend's car flipped over, I was sailing over the back seat, seeing so much at once. I watched cracks spread through the rearview mirror, and then I saw only with my mind's eye, an obituary for Kim and I on page two of the Journal.

I thought I trusted God, and wasn't afraid of death. There was time for only the briefest regret, a wistful prayer from me, "But I haven't written anything yet!"

The accident was over in an instant. Although the car was flattened and mangled beyond saving, Kim and I emerged with only cuts, scratches, and bruises, or so it seemed. The deeper, hidden wounds were fear. Kim was shaken and afraid to drive again, and I was afraid to write.

Kim was braver than I. As the months went on, she began driving again, only short trips in town at first. Gradually, she regained confidence and was able to drive longer distances. In a couple of years, she was again cheerfully flying along country roads and highways.

I wrote, but not the fiction that makes my heart sing. I had crafted you, Writer's Block, to keep me safely in the confines of essays and papers for school, later copywriting and press releases for work. For me, those assignments were not writing "anything," although they satisfied class requirements or paid the bills.

It has been well over thirty years since that accident. Surely enough time for me to get over you, Writer's Block. I tried to chip away at you in the early days, but I lacked dedication. Kim managed to conquer her fear. Three years after that first accident, though, Kim had an eerily similar crash. She didn't survive. You, Writer's Block hardened to granite.

We're older now, Writer's Block. My faith in God has matured and strengthened. I understand that I can have my moments of fear, but I have faith that God is with me through everything. You're getting brittle now, Writer's Block. My time here grows shorter, and I don't want to waste it on you. Someday, I will die, regardless of whether I've written "anything" or not. So, I am going to sit in this chair every day, and I am going to write every day, and it may not be pretty, but I am going to write. I am going to wear you down with every word I type, Writer's Block, until you are just so much gravel. You'll always be nearby, I know, trying to get back into my life, but I'm done with you. You are no longer a wall to keep me from what I love, I am going to make you the step I use to reach my goals.

See you around.

[PamG]

Dear Writer's Block,

It's not you, it's me. Actually, you are part of me. I dredged you up and created you from a dark fearful place during the accident. As my friend's car flipped over, I was sailing over the back seat, seeing so much at once. I watched cracks spread through the rearview mirror, and then I saw only with my mind's eye, an obituary for Kim and I on page two of the Journal.

I thought I trusted God, and wasn't afraid of death. There was time for only the briefest regret, a wistful prayer from me, "But I haven't written anything yet!"

The accident was over in an instant. Although the car was flattened and mangled beyond saving, Kim and I emerged with only cuts, scratches, and bruises, or so it seemed. The deeper, hidden wounds were fear. Kim was shaken and afraid to drive again, and I was afraid to write.

Kim was braver than I. As the months went on, she began driving again, only short trips in town at first. Gradually, she regained confidence and was able to drive longer distances. In a couple of years, she was again cheerfully flying along country roads and highways.

I wrote, but not the fiction that makes my heart sing. I had crafted you, Writer's Block, to keep me safely in the confines of essays and papers for school, later copywriting and press releases for work. For me, those assignments were not writing "anything," although they satisfied class requirements or paid the bills.

It has been well over thirty years since that accident. Surely enough time for me to get over you, Writer's Block. I tried to chip away at you in the early days, but I lacked dedication. Kim managed to conquer her fear. Three years after that first accident, though, Kim had an eerily similar crash. She didn't survive. You, Writer's Block hardened to granite.

We're older now, Writer's Block. My faith in God has matured and strengthened. I understand that I can have my moments of fear, but I have faith that God is with me through everything. You're getting brittle now, Writer's Block. My time here grows shorter, and I don't want to waste it on you. Someday, I will die, regardless of whether I've written "anything" or not. So, I am going to sit in this chair every day, and I am going to write every day, and it may not be pretty, but I am going to write. I am going to wear you down with every word I type, Writer's Block, until you are just so much gravel. You'll always be nearby, I know, trying to get back into my life, but I'm done with you. You are no longer a wall to keep me from what I love, I am going to make you the step I use to reach my goals.

See you around.