Inspiration Is Not Self-Created: A lament on writer's block.

And the Ace of Wands as guidance

Prometheus Brings Fire To Mankind by Heinrich Friedrich Füger

I am a writer, but words have never been my strong suit.

Don’t get me wrong, since the time I was young there has been a marked fascination with written word. Back then, it was scribbles into notebooks, emotionally-charged LiveJournal entries, or unpacking the mysterious vocabulary of my favorite high fantasy novels. Words were strange and whimsical, alluring and frustrating, but I wasn’t naturally drawn to them.

Before I was a writer, my creativity was funneled through music. I am first and foremost a singer, a skill I was born with and honed over years of playing live and recording. I am most happy with a mic in hand, sensing the melodies hidden in the guitar riffs. Long before lyrics emerge, I am playing with vocalizations and drawn out notes, riding the rhythm of the spirit of the music through my voice.

Even with music, I am less interested in wrestling the melodies into form. I can easily replace one word with another, make the song about this topic or that. In essence, the words aren’t as important to me. The real art is in the in-between, when I’m reaching out into that cosmic creative void and channeling its contents. A great hook can be lyrical, absolutely, but the magic for me is touching into that ineffable something.

My work now is not so different. Though I now play with symbol instead of song, I’m still attempting to translate the great energy of creation. Concessions, however, have to be made for the sake of accessibility. I can no longer just hum a tune or jam endlessly on sound and harmony, I have to write!

Though the process can be quite enjoyable, like working through a puzzle, I find that it often takes me further away from the flow state I so long for when creatively engaged. Distilling my thoughts and constructing coherent sentences can feel so mechanical. Laboring at the edge of my comfort zone, in the realm of logos and word, I’m much more susceptible to stalling out and losing the creative thread.

And that is where I find myself lately, entangled with an unslayable beast known as writer’s block.

I am writing a book, an endeavor I did not think I would ever embark upon. It always felt too complex, too big of a project to wrap my mind around. Now, I am more immersed in the realm of words than ever before. When I catch the creative wave, I ride it with exhilaration, words pouring out of me like my old songs. But when I’m struggling through the process, when I have no words to give, I feel completely bereft, adrift on placid seas.

Hour after hour, day after day slips by and I’m still starring at this blank page. The cursor blinks and blinks, and all I can think is, “Where is the spark of inspiration? Why is it so hard to find?”

In one such moment recently, while lamenting on my writer’s block, a sudden answer came to me:

Inspiration is not self-created but offered from on-high.

With that realization, the image of the Ace of Wands burst into mind. You see, the suit of Wands governs passion, inspiration, creative intensity, and the psychological energy that animates life. Each card in the suit gives us a glimpse into what it means to be engaged with this creative force, from the initial spark till it eventually snuffs out.

Curiously, the journey begins with a heavenly offering, revealing that the true wielder of the fiery energy of creation is the manus dei (hand of god). The idea that inspiration is self-generated is a misplaced belief at best and a soaring inflation at worst. In actuality, when we tap into the matrix of creativity, we are in the realm of the gods. It is Prometheus, descending from Olympus with blazing torch in hand.

This feels like a radical reorientation for my writer’s block. No wonder each attempt to reignite the spark through my own will alone has felt futile. I’m trying to grasp when I should be opening to receive. The task then becomes: how can I create the proper conditions to do so?

I’m reminded of my relationship to music and how much simpler it feels to weave the inspiring thread. When I am enveloped in a wall of sound, I feel myself dropping in and tuning out, thinking less and feeling more. My whole internal landscape shifts and I trust in what is emerging with total faith in the gods of creation.

For writing, I think that translates to connecting to the creative essence of what I am working on (the heart of the chapter, the deeper meaning in a passage, etc) and then opening myself to inspiration.

What image strikes me then? Which word floats into my awareness? Where is my attention and interest drawn?

Often, when mired in writer’s block, I find myself relentlessly searching for the right word or proper sentence. I try to strong-arm my way through, anything to get things moving again, to feel a sense of excitement or alignment. Now, when things feel stuck and dull, I first loosen my grip. I reach back out to that fiery torch of creative wonder and see which path it is lighting.

Since implementing this approach, my writer’s block has abated. Working on my book has felt more joyous; there is a newfound ease and playfulness. Though I’m sure I’ll face this challenge many times more, I now have a way of relating to the experience that feels more constructive and archetypally resonant.

How do you navigate writer’s block?

Join me in the comments to discuss!