My muse has cruelly abandoned me. It almost seems that she has become my enemy, a green eyed, fanged monster who blocks my intent. What does Erato want from me? It is not that I lack ideas. Dozens flit through my brain every minute. However, none seem worthy to put into print. I feel that I have little to say. Others have already expressed my thoughts in a fashion more elegant than I am able to muster. The only advantage to being frozen in creativity forces me to introspect.
I admire Woody Allen. As a septuagenarian he continues to create a movie on a yearly basis. There is a great similarity of content and underlying themes in his works. Yet, in each production he is able to express his tired, old ideas with a fresh new twist. As I examine the many blogs I have written in the past several years I am learning something about myself. Most of my comments tend to be pedantic and didactic. They lack lightness and levity, characteristics that I believe I possess. It reminds me of an earlier stage in my life. As a clever young professor I tended to impart my mastery of information in many fields to show others how brilliant I thought I was. I even had the temerity to lecture to my psychoanalyst. In a blunt fashion he would cut through my bullshit by saying, “Vern, stop being a fucking professor.” Perhaps my writer’s block indicates that I have not mastered his advice. Perhaps in my writing I demand to deal only with weighty or important topics. I insist that my style of writing reflects skill and mastery of the language. I want to be relevant. These demands have the ability to squelch spontaneity. When I am unable to meet them I am tempted to throw in the towel and refuse to share the way I see the world. Yet, the feedback I get from my readers seems to indicate that that I still have something to say from the vantage point of almost ninety years on this earth. If my writer’s block arises from demanding too much of myself the solution seems apparent. I can achieve greater comfort by lowering expectations. I’m certain that my muse would not accept such a solution.