writer’s block

Today i sat with the pieces that I will present at “A Love Supreme”, a tribute to lovers  this Saturday, February 13th at the Harrison Art Center at 16th and Alabama. What’s wrong? I’m not motivated or inspired to do much else. I’ve done no writing, no blogging and only superficial stuff in my journal all week.

Have I fallen out of love with poetry? Estranged from my relationships with the verse?

Hardly. It’s just one of many quiescent periods I go through from time to time. A writer’s block if you will. I intentionally write my way out of it. I go to Wendy’s, order chicken nuggets and a Coke and read Nikky Finney’s poem Uncles and instantly I’m inspired. I write a piece I’m tentatively calling Family that even I am impressed with.  (Check out my Blogpages for a sneak peek of the poem).

I continue to ponder the question of : What makes a writer a writer? Is it because people pay money to hear them speak, or read what they have written? If I never get paid for writing, does that make me any less of a writer? I think the thing that distinguishes one artist from another is how they allow God to use the gift he has given them. For example, the thing that distinguishes a writer from a painter is that one writes and the other paints. Likewise, what distinguishes a painter from a musician is that one uses brushes and the other uses instruments. Further, what distinguishes a musician from a storyteller is one says it with notes and the other says it with words.

It’s all in what you do with the gift.

So I am indeed a writer. And I emphasize the distinction between writer and spoken word artist by what medium the artist uses. Writers do not have CDs and spoken word artists do not sell books. That’s just the way it is. Also, I believe spoken word artists have better memorization skills than writers do, but writers have better ink pens! Honk if you agree.

More later.

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