Not all of us are just writers. We wear many hats. Besides being a mother of four and a wife, I’m a commercial fisherman. Just this week I finished fishing the Sockeye salmon season in Bristol Bay, Alaska.
I’ve exchanged my fishing hat, raingear, boots, and bibs, for a laptop and a much needed green tea frappuccino.
Problem is my writer’s hat doesn’t fit. Something is wrong this year. I usually dive back into writing—into that magically world where I pull all the strings—with barely a splash. My characters welcome me back with a barrage of dialogue spewing so fast it’s all I can do to make sense of it all.
This year there is only silence.
The logical part of me says not to worry. Fishing was really hard this summer. Give yourself a freaking break. Remember those gale force winds, ten foot seas, and cutthroat fishermen. The parade of bears to where you were no longer saw them as a threat but more of a nuisance. Come on. Mosquitoes are a nuisance!
The creative side of me is frantic, mentally searching for anything worth writing about and coming up blank. It’s amazing how scary blank is. I’d rather deal with bears.
I know I need to “chillax” as my teenage daughter is fond of saying. I definitely need a few fraps. Reading a good book is also sound advice. Rereading my own material and maybe editing is a stellar idea too. But no. I don’t want to do any of it.
I’m just exhausted. Right? My creative well hasn’t dried up. Surely not. I could write about my recent summer experiences, but who wants to relive all that hard work and frustration? Not me. I want to fall into a coma.
So please, share how you refill your creative well when it appears to be all dried up?
This writer/fisherman needs to be tossed a line.