An interesting thing happened a few days ago; something of which caught me completely by surprise; a thing which I never imagined would happen; a thing which brought with it, dread.
A few nights ago an interesting thing landed in Charlotte; more specifically in my mind. A large writers bLocK dropped squarely between my imagination and inspiration.
I lost my desire to write; I’ve lost my creativity; I’ve lost my need to expose my life to the internet.
But there’s something different about this writer’s bLocK. This writer’s bLocK is causing me to not write about a certain topic.
You see, it’s bLocK-ing my exposing Rodrigo to the internet. Not because he’s asked me to stop writing about him, but because I don’t want to write about him. I don’t want to expose our friendship to anyone; I’m taking this friendship very slowly and very cautiously and very quietly.
I’ve discussed this bLocK with Rodrigo and he understood it completely.
“You don’t have to write about me, Harlan,” he said quietly, then continuing, “But you do have to write. If that means that I’ve become a distraction, then I should leave. Maybe if I leave, you won’t have your writer’s bLocK. That’ll be better for you, won’t it?” he asked.
“Are you kidding, Rodrigo? No,” I exclaimed, “Your leaving will not make things better,” I said. Then continued, “Rodrigo, I can whether this writer’s bLocK; I’ve had them my entire career. And I refuse to accept that your departure would solve anything, except maybe to cause me such longing and heartache that I’ll be inspired to write.
“You and I are still new, Rodrigo; we haven’t had a chance to fight yet; an argument will test the strength of the rope that binds us together. How about if we give ourselves enough time to have an argument. To see where we go, or where we run to, when things aren’t as rosy as they are now. Let’s give us that time together.”
Writer’s bLocK is a time that writer’s encounter during their career. But one associated with a lover is a wholly new distinction. Not wishing to write about the electrifying feeling of infatuation; the exuberant feeling when the doorbell rings; that first kiss as Rodrigo crosses my threshold; or the vision as he peels his t-shirt from his torso exposing a toned chassis.
Maybe this writer’s bLocK is less an obstacle and more a gag order.
It’ll be lifted once we’re past that first argument. Stay tuned.