Reblogged: Sven Birkerts on Writing

Hi Cheri…

I’ve exchanged a couple of emails with one of my friends just recently, we spoke about many different subjects and ideas and finally came up to that ‘writer’s block’… I said to her that I was blocked a good few times over the last few months due to different matters and changes in my life, which are very positive from the perspective of where I am today…

and she said something very interesting…

She’s a writer with 10 years of experience and publisher already, and whenever she feels the same about that awkward ‘pause of writing’ or ‘inability’ to write the next chapter, she take a break from her routines, to give her own best strategies of writing a necessary space and time for expansion…

to expand the future potentials which are constantly changing and seeking the new ways of expression, to be with close connection to the heart and mind’s power as well… she said, it’s like a dance between two lovers or two opposite sides of the same personality and also very specific way of enjoying the moment, while typing the text on keyboard, but the best part for me and an honor as an artist and painter was…

When she mentioned about her way of getting rid of ‘writer’s block’ which is connected to one of my paintings of 1st collection, she said that… sometimes I go for a walk or I just keep looking at your painting No. 7, until I get a feeling of specific flow of inspired action or at least release of pressure to write that next chapter of bestselling book in my mind’s eyes… so I will have to try this out myself 🙂

Thanks for reading this and have a great and wonderful writing over the next days, weeks or so…

Cheers from Ireland, Swav

The Daily Post

For the writers out there who’ve struggled with writer’s block, or whose wells are currently dry, I invite you to read Sven Birkerts’ Aeon essay on how it feels when the tide comes back in. He captures this moment, while sitting on a bench by a lake in Central Park in New York City:

All of a sudden, I found myself wanting to write sentences again and, when I did, it felt to me like the rains had finally come, stirring up life in the dry land. I don’t know if I even shifted in my place, but whatever it was has since brought something back that had gone missing. The time hasn’t been that long, really, but by what clock? What decides long? The clock of days or the clock of the inside life? How long can a person feel unconnected and not feel that it’s too long? Writing…

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