This and next week, I’m taking lots of online classes. A Facebook writer’s group I belong to, Write Without The Fight, has a series this week that will help us blast through those times we just can’t write. There are lots of theories why we “get” Writer’s Block. I might agree we’re procrastinating; and it’s usually out of fear. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of not writing well, not being liked, etc. stops a lot of people. By my point in life, that doesn’t matter anymore.
Our questions were twofold; What kind of creative thinker are you?; and what kind of thinker are you? “What,” you say? I say it depends on what I’m doing. Why?
As a retired systems analyst, I received calls to Mutual of Omaha in the middle of the night. There would be a problem over a program ending abnormally. I had to be a divergent thinker (full of ideas). We needed to think fast; get the program going again. I can go back home to sleep.
Working on something I’m unfamiliar with, I had to be a slower thinker. Assessing what the program was doing. And why. Looking where we might make a change. Then test the results before having Operations do their thing.
I’d do some convergent analysis. Work at a slow pace. Think things through. I took a few perfect places to insert the fix. I needed to get home. The kids needed to get up for school. I would get ready to go back to work, in full business work attire – showered, suit, pantyhose, blouse tucked in, hair and makeup done. One memorable night, I went to bed at 11:30 p.m.; they called me at midnight; I went to the office and returned home at 6 a.m. Short night for sure.
As a “retiree,” and now an author, a woman who created her own publishing company, her own daily blog, and soon to release a children’s book, I use my brain in creative endeavors, until it comes to the business part of my life. Then, well, it’s all business.
I can’t wait to hear about today’s class, at 2 p.m.; Name the Unnameable. Thy name is Writer’s Block? My personality kind of shuns the trendy things, writer’s block being one thing I sort of doubt. What keeps me from writing? Time, most of the time. And chronic pain, when I just can’t sit in my office chair anymore. Oh, I can go to the recliner. It’s not isolated from everyone (the dogs, the Babe), and what they’re doing.
I write better when I’m at my seat, feeling the creative vibes of my studio/office. It’s my safe place for sure. Just like the old Beach Boys song, “In My Room.” Being the only girl, I had my own room. My sanctuary. My hurts were left at the door, and I’d enter a world where I drew, designing clothes, wrote plays for my girlfriend Karen and I to act out, and wished all the stuff teenage girls wished.
Now, in the Home Office, my quilting studio, my writing and business office, I dream, design quilts and stories, and get ready to tell the world my stories. There’s always a story. Make yours a good one. I will, too. Thanks for reading today; time to go pick up groceries. The fridge looks like one in a single guy’s apartment. Bare! See you tomorrow!