Day 1
Breaking Up With Writer’s Block
It’s time for you and Writer’s Block to part ways. Write a letter breaking up with Writer’s
Block, starting out with, “Dear Writer’s Block, it’s not you, it’s me …
Ok Let's go
Dear Writer's Block,
It's not you it's me, I've allowed you take residence in my heart and mind. I've allowed you to take reign on me since that day in 8th grade when I decided I was not meant to be a writer. That day I made a choice to listen to the harsh and hateful voice in my head instead of the voices of my peers. That day I gave you power that you did not rightfully earn. I gave you the power to decide my fate and my future. I gave you my freedom of expression. I became a faithful prisoner under your control. I ignored the things I truly wanted to do. I closed my ears to the writers in my head. I ignored the yearning to go to poetry slams and join cyphers. I stopped short of the writers workshops getting brochures just long enough to read the type of classes but never asking my parents to send me to the writers camps. I considered your thoughts and not my wants and dreams. I never even whispered the dream to be a writer. I never even considered the possibilities of being a writer of putting the colors in my head down as words. I never let myself dream that dream. Instead for 20 years I've silently painted beautiful pictures with words in my head. I've secretly listened to soliloquies rambled by characters never inscribed. For years I've wrote stories in my head never attempting to free them, keeping them prisoner like you did me. I've pushed aside character bios and lines of poems begging to come to life. I've killed the stories before they had a chance to take root and grow. I allowed the fear of being heard to outweigh the loudness of my screams. It's me Mr. Block. It's always been me. I've wasted our time, I waited for you to get the balls to leave, but why would a leech voluntarily fall off it's source of blood? Why would a parasite leave it's source of life? It wouldn't Mr. Block, it would attach and never give up because it would die without the source. Without my willingness to be bound you would died a long time ago. Possibly coming by for visits but never taking residence for this long. Sir, you should have tried harder. You shouldn't have let me go. I was a very good source. And I know you tried. I know you knew how awesome I could be. That's why you chose me. I can't imagine it was accidental. You saw me on that day, that day i had doubt in my abilities to be something more and you decided that I would be a good source. I can't imagine you thought it would 20 years later that I would get rid of you. Maybe you did. Maybe you took me as a lifer. Full of potential scared of change. But you messed up, you allowed me to see the wrong prompt, you didn't realize that years of reading instead of writing would train me still. You didn't realize that the guy walking in the woods took that walk often, the difference came after the day he changed his choice. You don't understand me. You don't love me. You never cared about me. Maybe it was fear Mr. Block maybe you were scared of what might happen if I stepped into the awesome. Maybe you were worried about how my greatness would manifest in the realm of things around us. Perhaps I was. I'm sure I was. But today I'm breaking up with you. I'm sure we will see each other around here and there but I'm just not willing to stay in this relationship with you anymore. We can keep going back and forth I could let you stay here but I would be killing myself sir. I could but I wont. It's over and I could say I'm sorry but I'm not. So goodbye Writers Block, it's been real. I'm pretty sure you owe me some back pay.
Pregnant with expectation,
Cynethia Williams
Mother, Daughter Sister, Girlfriend, Cook & Writer etc.
