Writer's Block

Writer’s    Block ©

By Michael Casey

I couldn’t think what to write about off the top of my head, normally an idea presents itself and then away I go, so I’ve decided to write about Writer’s Block. I have to go to bed now, I normally write something before bedtime, and sometimes some other times, anyway this writer has to go to bed. So forgive the break and in the morning I’ll continue this theme. I did once work with a guy called Duncan who could not sleep during the day so he fell asleep on the night shift. He’d be typing away at the keyboard in the computer room then woosh, his head would fall forward and he’d hit his head on the screen and then he’d be fast asleep.

So to avoid that, I’m going to bed right now, nite nite. Good morning, well I’ve had my sleep so that’s good, no Duncan head butting the computer, he must be over 40 now, but in memory he’s 20. Memory does play a big part in writing. You harvest memories. I seem to remember childhood like a video recorder, but where did I just put my shades or my mug, that’s so much harder. WE all have a few Black Holes too, bad romance if I misquote Lady Gaga, can be one of them.

Now to get started on Writer’s Block what has happened this morning before I pick up the pen again to talk to you? Well its afternoon now, nearly 2pm. My girls have deserted me for a day trip to London, they’ll be eating expensive cake now in Covent Garden. Shanghai mum’s and their daughters just love cake. I’ve also done a quick bit of painting in the bathroom while they are away, so the paint has a chance to dry while they are eating cake.

Now is this deliberate time wasting by a writer, any writer so that they don’t have to face the page? It could be, I even popped out to the corner shop, but I did have to, it wasn’t an excuse. I’ve had a couple of mugs of hot stuff. First Ovaltine, as I’ve given up coffee for a year now I have to drink something. Then I had my one daily cup of disgusting Green Tea, and it is disgusting, my friend just looked at me like I was an idiot and said “add milk or sugar” when I complained how bad it tasted. My Shanghai wife just scolded me and said I was diluting the goodness in it.

I’m also listening the 3 Mike and The Mechanic albums I have, my record collection kind of stopped 20 years ago, so its like the 90s revisited if you live next door to me. So now I’ve explained everything I can finally talk about Writer’s Block. Though I may stop for a moment for some pain killing cream. Hip Hip Hurray, it was an easy pun so forgive me.

Now what have I proved as I go through the 500 word and pain barrier. I think I’ve proved that writers will do anything so as not to face the page, if they have writer’s block. It’s like avoiding Confession if you are a Catholic. Which reminds me I read a piece by “Holysmoke” in the Daily Telegraph this morning. It was about a drug that keeps you alert, Americans swear by it. I did tweet “Holysmoke” to say Imagination is the best drug and any substances destroy it. I don’t think he’ll reply, but the smoke from the Thurifer  was very intoxicating when I was an altar boy and reader all those years ago.

Writers Block is also like a man on death row wanting to carry on with his conversation with his own shadow so as to keep the hangman at bay. Did I tell you I once read a book about Pierpont the last executioner? It was very good.

Get to the point you bastard I can hear any Telegraph readers say as they read this. But I think I have made my point already. I never get Writer’s Block, it may be because of the p

aint fumes seeping into the front room from where I am talking to you.