Sometimes you feel a strong urge to write, yet unable to orderly channel the conglomerate of accumulated data.
You know, for example, when you consume too much variety of ingredients in too short an interval? When you frivolously mix the vegetables, the fruit, the grains, the legumes, the poultry, the dairy, the acidic, the sweet, with no regard for segregation, order, or proper digestion?
If you’ve ever mixed a grapefruit with Kefir, you know what I’m talking about. But you need hardly tread on such extremes to observe ill effects.
Even milder laboratory experiments can render chaos for your digestive tract; for some of us mere mortals anyway.
That’s sort of what I feel transpires up there in the attic as too much eclectic matter intermingles in too short an interval. Especially too much of the subnutritional that compromises that of otherwise potential quality.
We experience some equivalent of an Irritable Bowel Syndrome. A particular species of a writer’s block, although not from starvation, but indigestion.
Alright, so you’ve left matters beyond control. You cannot further digest to save your life. You feel pain … some kind of an existential or even spiritual pain. You’ve probably lost appetite.
That can’t feel uplifting. How about a few redeeming pointers:
Consistent journaling. Don’t leave too much there in subconscious limbo. Offload content as it strikes you.
Don’t burden your consciousness to the rim, as you might your pantry or refrigerator. Otherwise, material becomes stale, or you entice yourself to mix and overconsume. Both are strong candidates for the Irritable Writers Syndrome. Calm your accumulation habits.
What I mean to say, don’t compromise your creativity with the domestic inconsequential, cheap talk, rumours, noise or media. Constructive thought eagerly dissipates unless you maintain firm reign.
Emphasize the important. Observe your thought pattern.
Also, avoid malnutrition, in quiet the literal sense. Poor digestion compromises creativity.
Open an empty text buffer with no other visual stimuli; no tool bars, status bars, stock tickers, news trackers, notifications, nothing.
Avoid any other distractions or task switching. Meditate there for a while. It’s a calming place.
With time, your abused ‘digestive tract’ will slooowly give manifest to a subtle, barely discernible, yet promising chain of thought.
(Within an already open VIM session,
:ene[w]opens a fresh, nameless buffer. Strangely, I didn’t discover this until relatively recent.)
Relax. You’re already in a wrecked state. Don’t further aggravate. Postpone or eradicate whatever possible expectations for the day. Restart with an empty canvas.
Embrace the scarcity mode.
Questions, comments? Connect.