Writer's block

'Of all the infinities I could be and live

I limit myself to a few

By choosing you'

'Wow, that sounds fancy' you say peering over my notebook.

It is a creative writing class. And I have managed nothing more than a few words of what was supposed to be three pages. 

'It's fancy, but it is all I could come up with'

'Writer's block much?' you say. 

I am pretty sure you mean to help. But it irritates me, now that you define my problem. It makes me feel boxed and now I really feel stuck, and at a loss for how to follow up these lines. I had been so impressed with these three lines, I spent a good five minutes admiring the rhyme and the beauty and the depth, forgetting that I had just an hour to finish a couple of more pages. 

I have loved writing since the past five years. Few things make me fulfilled and proud more than this. I joke sometimes that if I were to become a millionaire by my day job, it wouldn't compare to the happiness of having a million views for my writing. It's a joke all right, I might be wrong about it, but I know in a twisted way its true for me. So you can imagine the frustration one can feel after being handicapped with what my friend decided to call a 'writer's block'.

'I just feel like I got nothing beyond these three lines' I say, almost hurting my notebook as I close it unceremoniously.

'That doesn't sound like fun' you say.

For someone who doles out the most creative stories, you seem to lack passion in the in person communication department.

'Can we try to brainstorm something?' I ask. 

I think this is the point where I have lost myself a little. I am a fiercely original thinker, and I hate being influenced by anyone's ideas of how my writing should go. But I am trying really hard to be an open minded student here, following what my teacher pointed out. 

‘Of course we can brainstorm. I was going to offer but I didn’t think you wanted to hear my ideas.’

I am surprised by this, I must say. In a class full of people who love to offer unsolicited ideas you get me.

I don’t want to hear your ideas, but now that you acknowledge it, I am not sure.

‘I want to. Please go ahead’ I ask, for now I really want to.

‘It could be a personal oath. You know, when a student selects their major in college. It is choosing one infinity over another. Although technically it doesn’t make sense. Infinity is infinity. But I get it. It's art.’

Not quite what I had in mind, I think.

‘Wow, that’s interesting. I had thought of a different scene though.’

You smirk knowingly, that I don’t think it’s that interesting. You see through the fake politeness I have learnt in this country. However fake it is I believe it is for the ‘greater good’. It gives good vibes the fifty percent of the times that you believe it. And objectively speaking, what you said is an interesting idea. But it reduces the dreaminess of the lines I have written.

‘It’s okay, go with your idea’ you say.

‘Okay, I’ll try’ I say meekly.

I spend some time tapping my notebook furiously while you peer over. I wish my tapping would irritate you enough to drift away from this. But it doesn’t. I accept my weird kind of audience (you) and I just move on and try to ignore your presence.

‘I think you can’t write ahead because while you love the lines you don’t truly believe in them.’

‘What? I don’t have to believe in them. It's fiction’.

‘But still….’

‘Elaborate. What do you think they mean and why do you think I don’t believe in them?’

‘I think you do not believe in the power of someone to reduce your infinities but you want to enforce that sacrificial quality of love through those lines. And now you are debating whether love is a sacrifice of infinities and whether such a love is any love at all. Well, I don’t know for sure if you are debating, but you aren’t sure how to elaborate a thought which doesn’t adhere to your beliefs’

‘You may be correct here’ I am astounded at this.

How can someone derive a logical conclusion out of such cheesy lines I do not know. Yet here you are. I knew having someone with a Math major in a writing class was weird. But this is genius.

‘I know’ you say with a smirk merged with a tiny amount of gloating in your tone.

‘But I want to use those lines anyway’

‘You are so adamant’

‘I just can’t leave a great opening line alone, it has to be followed by something. It’s a waste to start something so well and just leave it hanging.’

‘It’s a waste to sit there and debate for hours as to what to write next’

‘That’s the mark of a great artist’

‘You can defend anything you do, can’t you?’

‘I have wasted more time talking to you than thinking what to write next’ I snap.

You are amused. Interesting. Amusement instead of anger.

‘Anyways, I’ll go back do my thing. You do yours. All the best.’ you say.

Thank God. The hovering had to stop.

I smile as you turn around and walk away.

And I don’t know if an infinity just slipped by me.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you enjoyed reading this! Let me know what you think, leave a comment :)


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------