Day 69: Hammers

Well-hell-hello!

Is that a cool introduction? I think it's pretty neat. I'm going to say that at the beginning of every post from now on. It's going to be my thing.

Yeah, so, hey. I went to a coffee shop today and I tried doing some writing prompts, but nothing was coming out. My brain was all goopy and sluggish. But that's OK. That's all good in the pud. (I'm going to start saying that as well. Man, I'm like a Youtube content provider right now.)

Remember what I wrote about saying yes to reality and not being so hard on myself? About self-hatred being a Chinese finger trap? I mean it was the day before yesterday, I hope you remember. If not then you need to get your memory checked out! Do some brain training, my friend.

Well anyway, I'm going to do that. Uhh, be kind to myself. Not the brain training. It's you who needs the brain training. I bet you've even forgotten what we're talking about. It's worse than we thought! And where are your trousers? Wait, you don't even wear trousers. Your legs were amputated after that crash last year. It was a really traumatic experience. I can't believe you don't remember!

Boy, you can tell I'm tired, can't you? I waffle when I'm tired.

So, then, I'll waffle. But what I won't do is hate myself. That's important. I'm letting the fact I wasn't creative today be OK. I'm sitting down here on my tush and I'm doing a blog post anyway. And I'm feeling proud of that.

It's been a cycle of mine for so long to have a day or two of productivity, and then the first day it doesn't flow I throw my hands in the air and curse the heaves and yell that, see, I knew I wasn't cut out for this, I knew I couldn't sustain any creative endeavour.

And it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, because then the anger and frustration chases the creativity away further, which of course makes me more angry and frustrated, which makes it even harder to do anything the next day, and I get myself in such a tizz I have to walk away from it all and go and get drunk for a month.

It's like finding a beautiful deer has wandered into my clearing for me to photograph. But as soon as I start trying to get it to pose I spook it and it runs. Then I shout at it to come back, which makes it run even further.

And then I go and get drunk.

But not anymore. 69 days, by the way. That's huge. Shout-out to the number 69. Every thirteen-year-old school kid's favourite number. I reckon it's time you stopped tittering about it though. You're a grown-up. You don't have any legs. Be serious for once in your life!

But yes. I have managed to blog every day for this challenge. But the thing with the creativity has remained the same. I've stumbled into doing a Lovecraftian horror parody or a dumb film script or some writing prompts, stuff I've really enjoyed, stuff I desperately want to be doing -- but as soon as I realise what I'm doing I get self-conscious, that old negative voice starts going, "Ooh, look at him, trying to write, thinking he can write. Doing a little film script, are you? A little short story, huh?" And suddenly nothing will come. And I have to just write placeholder posts (like this), until my shadow-self eventually gets bored and wanders off, and creativity sprouts again.

It's like fighting Dark Link in the Water Temple in Zelda: Ocarina of Time. Halfway through the dungeon you come across an evil mirror version of yourself that attacks when you attack, blocks when you block, gets angry at Navi's constant hint intrusions when you get angry at Navi's constant hint intrusions (little Ocarina of Time joke for you there. I know Ocarina is your favourite ever game. Though I bet you'd forgotten.).

The trick, with Dark Link, is to un-equip your sword and whack him over the head with a big hammer. Which, now I think about it, seems a somewhat confused message...

Maybe the point is that you can't defeat your own shadow with a frontal assault. Maybe you win through doing something unexpected, you win through yielding.

Maybe you don't force that deer of creativity back to your woods. You just create a lovely glade and plant the flowers and hope that the deer wanders back of its own accord.

And then you whack it over the head with a big hammer.

I don't know, I feel like hammers should be in there somewhere, otherwise I'm kinda reaching with that analogy.

But anyway, I'm going to go get a good night's sleep, give that timid deer the space and time and love it needs, and see what tomorrow brings. I just hope I'm not still in the Water Temple. That place really sucks.

I've been ya boy, Robbie P., and this is me signing off. If you've enjoyed what you've read, please remember to like, comment and subscribe, and I'll see you next time, Internets. Kablamo!

That's how I sign off now. I'm going to do it every post. You'll see.