The Writer's Block of a "Professional" Writer
It has been more than two weeks since my Asian tour came to a calm conclusion. And I have been nothing short of a professional, full-time blogger during this time period (and will continue to do so until I can finally get my visa and get myself to Europe). Meanwhile, writing two posts per day everyday while doing little else besides watching TV and reading news has been an extreme toil on my mind. As I continue to empty out my private thoughts on these posts, I am beginning to realize that there really is not much left for me to empty out anymore.
The current lulls between my travels/work/school reminds me of the period of time I spent in Shanghai before I left for Japan to work in October. It was a time just like now, lounging around at home doing very little but anticipating the beginning of my next adventure (last time was work in Tokyo, this time is school in London). Each time, there were plenty of time to write, but there were so little events happening in my life that there is not much that I can really write about with enough analysis to cover the entire minimum 40-line structure I use for my posts.
Back then, I was extremely enthusiastic about the blog, having just started to serve as the repository of all my thoughts. I had the backdrop of entire two decades of my existence to work on at that time. There were just too many thoughts I accumulated over the years that I wanted to be recorded before they disappear to oblivion. And of course, back then, I still had a whole stash of rejected opinion articles to various newspapers that I can directly transfer to my blog without extra editing.
Unfortunately, more than a hundred posts on many different genres have become more than enough to cover all the thoughts I still had left in me after twenty years of various experiences. I have to constantly come up with new resources, new stimulation, and new observations to fill these pages. It is just too bad that these new experiences are nowhere to be found in my family's newly bought, renovated, and completely socially isolated housing compound in the remote corner of northern San Diego.
Writers often speak of mysterious instances in which they have something in the mind but cannot really put them beautifully on paper. They tend to blame them on irrational blanking of the mind they call "writer's block." But the reality is, there is no such thing as writer's block. The mind works logically, and the hand only needs to scrap together the same logic in writing. The existence of the writer's block is a sign that the mind is handicapped at the moment, and it is incorrect to simply blame it on the hand.
The logic will automatically form in the mind if the writer thinks about a topic long enough. And the writer will certainly think about the topic long enough he or she feels passionate enough about the subject. If writer's block occurs, it is just evidence that the writer is not feeling particularly enthusiastic enough about something he or she is about to write, at least not enthusiastic enough to write about...
Some people argue that writing is a profession of diligence and persistence. I have to disagree. Writing is just like art or music, putting in more time and effort can only give one more opportunities to create fine pieces of work, but there is completely no correlation between the amount of effort and time with the qualities of the final works. The quality will have to come from passion, not just a striving attitude. Sitting in front of the work-space for prolonged period of time is only a cause of frustration.
The best artisans are all those who spent most time observing (outside their workplaces) and understanding the surrounding environment rather than blindly imagining and construing it. Art, whether in the vocal, pictorial, or textual form, inevitably have to be reflections of reality rather than the ideals. And even when the resulting works seem to reflect something completely separate from reality, they are bound to still reflect certain aspects, usually problems or issues, omnipresent in reality.
It is this sort of "realist" writer I aspire to become. Pursuing the underlying principles, whether it be truths or vices, of real human lives. I may occasionally render them metaphorical or even completely imaginary, but below the surface, the comprehension of reality shall never be lost. As such, perhaps not having much to write about these days may not be entirely a bad thing. I will learn that squeezing vain pieces out of desperation and mental emptiness can serve no purpose in perfecting the art of writing.
The current lulls between my travels/work/school reminds me of the period of time I spent in Shanghai before I left for Japan to work in October. It was a time just like now, lounging around at home doing very little but anticipating the beginning of my next adventure (last time was work in Tokyo, this time is school in London). Each time, there were plenty of time to write, but there were so little events happening in my life that there is not much that I can really write about with enough analysis to cover the entire minimum 40-line structure I use for my posts.
Back then, I was extremely enthusiastic about the blog, having just started to serve as the repository of all my thoughts. I had the backdrop of entire two decades of my existence to work on at that time. There were just too many thoughts I accumulated over the years that I wanted to be recorded before they disappear to oblivion. And of course, back then, I still had a whole stash of rejected opinion articles to various newspapers that I can directly transfer to my blog without extra editing.
Unfortunately, more than a hundred posts on many different genres have become more than enough to cover all the thoughts I still had left in me after twenty years of various experiences. I have to constantly come up with new resources, new stimulation, and new observations to fill these pages. It is just too bad that these new experiences are nowhere to be found in my family's newly bought, renovated, and completely socially isolated housing compound in the remote corner of northern San Diego.
Writers often speak of mysterious instances in which they have something in the mind but cannot really put them beautifully on paper. They tend to blame them on irrational blanking of the mind they call "writer's block." But the reality is, there is no such thing as writer's block. The mind works logically, and the hand only needs to scrap together the same logic in writing. The existence of the writer's block is a sign that the mind is handicapped at the moment, and it is incorrect to simply blame it on the hand.
The logic will automatically form in the mind if the writer thinks about a topic long enough. And the writer will certainly think about the topic long enough he or she feels passionate enough about the subject. If writer's block occurs, it is just evidence that the writer is not feeling particularly enthusiastic enough about something he or she is about to write, at least not enthusiastic enough to write about...
Some people argue that writing is a profession of diligence and persistence. I have to disagree. Writing is just like art or music, putting in more time and effort can only give one more opportunities to create fine pieces of work, but there is completely no correlation between the amount of effort and time with the qualities of the final works. The quality will have to come from passion, not just a striving attitude. Sitting in front of the work-space for prolonged period of time is only a cause of frustration.
The best artisans are all those who spent most time observing (outside their workplaces) and understanding the surrounding environment rather than blindly imagining and construing it. Art, whether in the vocal, pictorial, or textual form, inevitably have to be reflections of reality rather than the ideals. And even when the resulting works seem to reflect something completely separate from reality, they are bound to still reflect certain aspects, usually problems or issues, omnipresent in reality.
It is this sort of "realist" writer I aspire to become. Pursuing the underlying principles, whether it be truths or vices, of real human lives. I may occasionally render them metaphorical or even completely imaginary, but below the surface, the comprehension of reality shall never be lost. As such, perhaps not having much to write about these days may not be entirely a bad thing. I will learn that squeezing vain pieces out of desperation and mental emptiness can serve no purpose in perfecting the art of writing.
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