I tend to forget writer’s block is a thing unless I’m actively thinking about it. My solution is to write about the writer’s block itself which has altered my perception of it. It’s not thought of as a lack of writing, but rather, another subject worth writing about.

In fact, it’s a challenge to write new content when the topic is writer’s block. To exploit as much of it as possible for my benefit. Let the “negative” be twisted and turned on its head to become a positive experience.

Defeat is a state of mind achieved by only those who have quit. Lessons are a state of mind achieved by those who don’t give up. I choose to learn.

My addiction isn’t with alcohol or drugs. Not with sex. Not with video games.
My addiction is with escaping reality. Seeing things for what they’re not.
My obsession and high comes from molding my own worlds and playing God.
My obsession is with creation and extinction.

The people closest to you will support you the least. It’s worse if you’re a writer because chances are you are one of the only people you know that enjoys reading. At best, those around you will purchase your writing just to say they did, but don’t press them on how far they’ve gotten because “haven’t had a chance to start” is quite possibly the answer. Their lack of interest is the reality.

It’s most frustrating part is that writers puts themselves into their work which results in the work being the best way to understand the writer. The best way to understand how you think and what you find interesting.

No one cares as much as you do, because you’re the only that cares.

The clock tocks twelve twice in the studio with my mind dead set on writing. The desire is to abandon responsibilities, but they must get completed before I proceed. The methods I use to work with the audio reflect how I long for writing. It’s an obsession I fulfill daily, yet always want more. The behavior of a junkie.

In my personal life this addiction presents itself as insomnia. My brain wanders off when it’s been given a break and begins to work on the stories. Character development, settings, even scenes develop throughout the course of my downtime, against my will. So I get up and write to calm the thoughts down. Repeat the next day.

If only I could distract myself from the write addiction of figuring out the right way. I’m plagued with the want for the learning experience writing is.

...and work until it starts to shine. Through word play and multiple drafts, one sentence turns into many. They become paragraphs with meaning. Purpose. A message.

Before long garbage turns to gold. Words exposing the soul. About who I am. About what I do. Even if its fiction, that fiction came straight from inner truth. And I’ll hate it more than anyone around. They’ll love it because it was not made by them. But they got to see the things about me that I can’t express any other way. And they’ll like it even more if they relate. Because like me they struggle to say what they’d like to say.

The doubt in my ability to make things that’ll last and people...

The one thing I must consistently remind myself is that it’s okay to write something simple and light hearted.

Stressless.

Not every paragraph, sentence or letter needs to happen in a frantic existential crisis. It’s alright to move slow and write something meaningless. So long as the writing is enjoyed as often as it’s hated.

What good comes from existing in a perpetual panic mode?

I’m glad I obsessively refresh my thoughts on a regular basis. It reminds me to catch my breath and just let my mind wander from time to time.

To keep it simple.