Thoughts on Writer’s Boredom

I never suffer from writer’s block.  I always have something to write about.  Ideas and words are always available.  They mix and mingle and multiply – they scurry around my brain – they give me no rest.  The hard part is in catching them, putting them to work, organizing them, calming them – that is the part that requires effort for me, not creating them in the first place.

No, there is no such thing as writer’s block in my world.  However, there is such a thing as Writer’s Boredom.  I don’t stare at the blank page and wonder how to fill it.  I stare at a page full of words and wonder, why am I bothering.  It is all so BORING.

I write the words and they flow across the page.  They flow, cough once, then sputter and die. They sit there on the screen looking pretty but doing nothing.  Like an artist’s model with a pouty glare, denying entry into her soul. The artist can spend hours of time, go through buckets of paint, cover miles of canvas, but if the model, or the landscape, or the still life just sits there and refuses to sparkle, well then, everyone’s time is wasted.

Go ahead, tell me it is the artist’s or the writer’s job to make the sparkle happen, not the other way around.

I’ll say, I don’t care, and you are ruining my essay.  Don’t use logic on me when I am feeling pouty.

Boat of Boredom
Boat of Boredom (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Look at this picture. It is how I feel – except that the kid is probably twenty-five years younger than I am, and he is a boy, and his underwear is showing which I can’t stand. (Oh, 1980’s high-waisted jeans style – please come back soon. Please!)

I’m glad the photographer called this picture, Boat of Boredom, otherwise I would have had to.  A boat doing nothing. Certainly not floating on water like it is supposed to.  Not carrying its passenger to places more exciting and interesting then here, now.

This post is going nowhere.  I’m going nowhere despite all this mental and physical movement.  Fingers flying furiously – as uselessly as a bird flying in a cage.

There is a sense of obligation to all you imaginary people out there – all you figments of my attention seeking brain, a sense that I need to fulfill the promise of writing something every day.  But I only demanded that promise of myself, no one asked it of me.  And I am the only one disappointed when I fail to fulfill it.

I am not one of those people who can live by the old adage, write for yourself.  If I was my only reader, I would never write.  Never.  I would never spend all this energy wrangling my thoughts just for my own reading pleasure.  Way too much work.  I’d rather just read someone else’s words.

I need an audience.

Need is such an ugly word.  The strong, independent woman in me hates that word.  Well, the strong, independent woman in me is a lie.  I need people. I need family and friends to be a mirror to myself.  I don’t exist except by the way I reflect off of others. How else do I know I am here?

I need people to read my words.

I need someone to tell me if I am boring.

18 thoughts on “Thoughts on Writer’s Boredom

  1. This is the first time I come across your blog, so I can’t say that I know you well. However, from this post alone I can tell you’re not a boring person. 🙂 Also, I’m rather envious of you for never having Writer’s Block!


    1. I just read a few of your posts, and I refuse to believe you have ever suffered from writer’s block! 😉


  2. Just earlier today I mentioned to someone how my only philosophy when I started my blog was: as long as at least one other person other than me is reading what I write and following and enjoying it, it’s worth writing. I could never only write for myself. I know exactly what you meant when you wrote this post!


    1. Has your philosophy changed as you’ve gained followers?
      I sort of wish the ‘stats’ would only show me that a post was viewed, not how many views it received. Then I could go back to that feeling you are speaking of. Just being happy that somebody witnessed my creation.


      1. I think my philosophy has more or less remained the same. Of course I am happier with more views, but even if it just showed me whether or not a post was viewed, like you said, I think I would be satisfied with that!


  3. Reblogged this on Blog of The Imaginator and commented:
    Oh, I know this feeling all too well. I also crave that feeling, that what I’m writing really fizzes and sparkles, that I’m writing something amazing.
    I didn’t feel like that today, when I wrote ‘Out on the range’. It was just an exercise in putting one foot in front of the other, of writing imagery, of trying to put myself in the head of Mystic the horse. In that sense it worked, but there was no twist at the end. Do I need a twist at the end of every story? I’m not sure, but I feel pleased when I do.
    I also know that feeling that the Mouse Mind has of wanting to write stuff for other people, and for them to like it, but then despising myself for being so weak as to need or want to have ‘likes’.
    Truthfully, I feel like I know when I’ve written something good, and I can be pleased with it even if not that many people like it – if at all – but I’m always thrilled when people do like my writing and even more so when they comment on what they actually like about the writing.
    Well, it tells me that I’m going in the right direction,doesn’t it? Besides, it also backs up that advice writers have to write what you would love to read; the times I’ve gotten the biggest response was when I put my heart and soul into being creative, challenging myself, enjoying myself, having fun, and being utterly pleased with myself when I hit that ‘publish’ button.
    What’s it like for you writers out there?


  4. Boring never – I never suffer writers block – there is probably a world out there thinking “wish he would” look back on your achievements – see success and an audience just waiting for your next post.


    1. thanks! you always have such nice things to say to me – I appreciate it. I should be more grateful for the people who do read what I write and stop wondering about all the people who don’t.


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