writ·er's block (r t rz) n.

"A usually temporary psychological inability to begin or continue work on a piece of writing"

That’s the dictionary version of my experience over the past few months. I have been facing a writer’s block. My inability to spew out words captured adroitly and I was praying, hoping, wishing, that this block would disappear true to its meaning. But it wasn’t temporary at all, and that’s when I thought why not to write on my inability to write. Hmmm … I was proud that I had outsmarted my own weakness. I was gloating and basking in my glory. Alas I never realised how fickle these moments can be !!

Yep, you guessed it right, I still had the block and the words were refusing to flow, or should I say even ooze or drip out. My river of thoughts had run dry, not that it was ever flowing in profusion, but this droughty spell was a bit too long for my liking. I cried out for inspirations, like the Indian farmer’s do for rain during drought. I prayed to all gods, across all religions but was never blessed with an idea.

I wrote a sentence, erased it, shook my head, bit my nails bare, nibbled on my collars, wrote again, deleted again, a never ending process some would say, and mostly I was rewarded with an empty white screen. Bare and devoid of alphabets, however much I wished otherwise. The screen was bare and empty, mocking me, challenging me and teasing me at my inability to write.

They say, its better to have tried and failed, than to have never tried at all. I drew solace from this fact. I had tried and no one could blame me for not trying, or of being a lethargic, disinterested writer or an insouciant. Well what more could I say ? It’s hard enough to write decent stuff, without having people turn up their noses, and add to it the writer’s block; I was kayoed from the start.

I rest my case, my time to write will come and I will wait for that day.