Since returning back to St. Louis to tend to my family and wait for my younger sister to give birth (first baby in the family!), I've been fraught with writer's block. I'm still writing daily (I have a bevy of assignments and a book I'm working on), but it's pretty gruesome. So gruesome for the first time since never if given a choice between writing and going to the gym to sweat and be smelly and gross is actually preferable to sitting at my laptop, staring at blank pages.
Part of the problem is nothing moves me, at all, which is part and parcel with a low-level depression that's manageable, but stubbornly keeping me from getting immersed fully in my writing. I'm dealing with the depression pretty well though, since I'm going to the gym and getting gross and stinky instead of lying in my bed, watching movies and eating large amounts of sugar. My waistline appreciates all the attention and I feel healthier than I've ever been, but gaaah. Writing. Even this is grueling. Writing about my peer Erica Kennedy's death was hard. Writing about my friend who doesn't like white people talking about dating white people was unusually hard. I thought I was writing a sort of jokey throw-away advice article about some goofy conversations I'd had with friends and co-workers and it turned into something else. Never under-estimate folks' passion about interracial dating.
But I almost shut down the whole conversation, when typically I like a good debate, because due to the low-level depression I simply didn't care about the subject to argue about it. But then, I'm in that mood where I don't care that much about anything. I know what I'm supposed to think and how I'm supposed to act and I try to do those things. My personal and political views don't change just because I lack the passion in arguing over them, but ... Lordy, it's exhausting just writing about it
That said, I'll continue to try to write my way out of my Writer's Block, as I always do. I'll try to not make it too obvious how cynical I am about everything at the moment and hold on to my sincerity and snarkiness rather than going off the deep end into "Who cares?" territory since -- what fun is that? If you don't care, why bother? And I do care, deep down, just not right now. When I have Writer's Block.