With a steaming bowl of ramen in my lap and the “Pride & Prejudice” soundtrack blaring in the background, I’m currently staring blankly at my computer screen as I grapple with my worst enemy — writer’s block. This foe is not just the enemy of loquacious English majors and Cavalier Daily columnists. I’m pretty sure all of us have had to face the challenge of coming up with something remotely valuable to say in a paper, in a class or in everyday conversation, even when we know the words we’re spewing aren’t coming from some deep corner of our souls.
Most of us have been writing analytical papers since our freshmen year of high school, so it’s easy to understand why our stocks of original thoughts are often dried up. Though many of my professors try to convince me otherwise, I’m not always excited about doing yet another close reading of a passage in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” and I have nothing pressing to say about the short poem I had to read for Spanish.
It’s not that I hate reading Shakespeare or despise the thought of preparing for class; it’s just that, sometimes, I have no more energy to dig down into a piece of text or an abstract idea. While I’m allowed to be behind and tired as a college student, there are times when I can’t seem to get out of this funk — when, no matter how much rest I get, I can’t seem to find that spark of excitement that guides me through the work I care about doing.
As the tempo of my U.Va. experience continually accelerates, I’ve found it difficult to pay attention, not just in class, but noticing the small details of my days, getting in tune with the genuine wonder and gratitude that usually encompass the work I get to pursue here. The abundant energy I once had to observe things and let them inspire me is being replaced by the need to just persevere through my classes and extracurricular activities — and I hate it.
I hate feeling like I’m just trying to keep my head above water, and because sheer survival is my focus, there’s often no room left to be excited about anything other than getting to sleep in on a Saturday morning. I hate saying, “When I get to this point in the semester, then I’ll feel right again, because I won’t be busy with X, and I won’t be worried about Y,” because wishing my time away is the last thing I want to be doing at this point and time in my life. For now though, I still have to write and work. Despite my current lack of driven enthusiasm and inspiration, my professors still demand my participation in my 9 a.m. discussion. I still have meetings to attend and contribute to. I still have this article to write.
We’re often told if we aren’t doing something with passion, we shouldn’t do it at all. The (surprisingly) eloquent words of Jean Ralphio from Parks and Recreation similarly summarize this philosophy, “If you don’t love what you do, then why do it?” Sure, it’s definitely a lot easier if every project, paper or activity we undertake is done with excitement and spirited insight, but it is impossible to be inspired and eloquent all the time. I’ve discovered through the painstaking process of writing this very article that there is value in just doing whatever it is that you feel you cannot do; once I just began and stopped focusing on how much I didn’t want to write this, I found a kernel of truth that I didn’t plan to discover. Accepting my own frustration and working through it allowed me to find something worth saying.
Learning to dig deeper past occasional indifference toward our tasks is a valuable skill to acquire in the process of becoming a functioning part of the world. It’s natural to run out of inspired ideas and boundless enthusiasm, but we can’t let our exhaustion be an extended excuse for the work we’ve signed on to do. The world still turns, deadlines still approach and jobs still require fulfillment — even when we can’t always “invoke the muse” which may inspire us to reach the potential we want to.
Writer’s block appears in many forms and in many aspects of our daily lives, but I’ve learned by writing this article it doesn’t have to control our ability to create and contribute something worth sharing. Accept your frustrating, inevitable plateaus for what they are, but make them work for you and not against you. Reflecting on your lows as well as your highs can yield just as many, if not more, important insights into your experiences and work. And hey, you may even be able to get an article out of it.
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