THE WOES OF A WRITER WITH NOTHING TO WRITE ABOUT

Writing is an activity which has shaped our lives, and is the reason for the world being what it is today. For centuries people have used writing to convey information on what they have seen or heard, or to express their thoughts and ideas in a way which is limitless to say the least.

From my personal experience of writing in some way, shape or form, factually or creatively, on a regular basis for the past 60+ years, I have found that however I feel, whether forced or inspired, there is always something which manages to scribble itself on my page or computer monitor screen. Just by putting my thoughts on paper and writing whatever comes into my mind, something interesting always seems to manifest itself from nothing. Hence the ultimate form of communications comes into focus.

While it required a certain amount of grass-roots journalistic training, I cut my teeth on newspaper reporting which in my mind is the easiest from of writing. All that is required, really, is a "nose for news" or natural inquisitiveness for facts, and the ability to convey the news story or report in a clear and concise (balanced) manner. There is never a shortage of news, be it good or bad.

The most challenging form of writing, however, is creative writing (preferably with an end message) that evolved out of my newspaper career. Creative writing isn't just limited to novels, short stories, and poems; in fact this type of writing, all of which I have engaged in, encompasses at least a dozen different types, each suited to specific situations and kinds of personal expression.

There are many forms of writing that can become creative if they expand beyond the basic reporting of facts. For instance, some blog sites and literary journalism articles are very creative too and that is an area that I have concentrated on in the past few years; coupled with the publication of several books, religious texts and self-inspired (hopefully) motivational prose.

Human interest is always foremost in my mind and I have set a daily writing target for myself of at least 1,500 words, give or take a few hundred. In 12 years of blogging alone I have produced in excess of 1,700 posts...Multiply that by an average of 1,500 words per post and you get a feeling for the magnitude of my literary undertaking. Consider too that I devote between two and 10 hours to the development of most Wrights Lane posts and the projection is jaw-dropping even for me.

I find writing in general to be a most exhilarating and rewarding exercise, regardless of how my readers may perceive it. For me writing is a way of life with resultant therapeutic benefits. If I do not do it because of other life obligations or in periods when the creative well runs dry of necessary inspiration or, Heaven help me...I succumb to discouragement, I feel lost and directionless, almost without purpose. 

Granted, I have experienced magic moments when having a shower, mowing the lawn, sitting in an easy chair doing nothing in particular or in bed at night trying to go to sleep when suddenly... "EUREKA!", I've had the most surprising idea or thought about something most compelling. This is a common feeling to have when performing activities which require very little thought, such as mindfulness. When you detach yourself from tasks which are demanding on concentration and focus, such as watching a film or reading a book, your mind begins to wander. It is this wandering of the mind that helps writers rejuvenate, to think creatively and constructively about their compulsion to convert words and thoughts to written text.

Now, confession time!

I tackled this post earlier today because I felt a creative blight coming on. For the first time in quite a few weeks I lacked inspirational wherewithal leaving me with nothing meaningful on which to expound. It was an unsettling, empty feeling and again I found myself out of sorts and disturbingly non-productive.

As I have done on such occasions in the past, I finally resorted a few hours ago to just sitting at a blank computer, letting my mind wander. And wander it did, into the never-never land of neck-breaking slumber.

When I groggily awoke 45 minutes later and was able to gather my bearings, I eased myself up from the still idle computer to get life back in my stiffened limbs -- and to make a cup of decaf coffee.

As I waited for the coffee to brew in the kitchen, two opposing  schools of thought ran through my mind. 1) Just go back to the computer and start writing about the first thing that comes to mind. And 2) When you have nothing to write about don't write anything.

Dutifully, I returned to the sleeping, blank computer monitor  screen and started writing about the first thing that came to mind. It is now 1:30 a.m. and I have been writing, editing, deleting -- and thinking -- for the better part of four hours.

Mission accomplished too! I kind of feel rejuvenated.

And to think that I just spent the entire evening and I have absolutely not written about anything. Or did I? Doesn't matter.

In retrospect, I listened to two seemingly conflicting voices and sometimes something as incidental as that is all it takes to prime the pump; or to my way of thinking -- whatever it takes to live to write another day.