I don’t like the term ‘writer’s block’ as it is such an overused cliché. As it is such a neat, ready-made phrase, I often find that it is applied even when the sensation being felt by somebody is nothing alike. Similarly to most idioms and clichés, it is the victim of lazy usage, to get around having to consider how you actually feel and, think about how you might precisely express this- at least, that is my interpretation. Though slightly disdaining and dismissive of this phrase, the experience I’ve been having of late is synonymous.
Autumn has been present for a number of days: 34 meteorologically, 12 astrologically. I have never before had a problem with embracing this season- there have been instances in my life so far where personal circumstances have taken away my enjoyment of it, though not through the fault of the season itself. This year- so far- however, I feel a total disconnect, for which I can assign blame to August.
Once the height of the heady season, Sun-drenched and dazzlingly golden, August this year was a month mired in rain; sullen, sodden and tinged with a cold evoking post-Winter March and April. There has been, it seems, little break from the grey: for this reason, I find myself pining for the Summer left incomplete and feel that Autumn has come much too soon. I see the leaves turning around me, yellow hues revealing themselves amongst the green as their verdance falls away, but they look superficial and sudden, a seasonal trompe l’oeil. As a writer and person taken, as I am, by the natural world around me, there is an innate pull that urges me to document the gentle and, more robust shifts in seasons- the scent of the air, its density, any way that my senses may be affected by natural phenomena- but I am currently at a loss at how to do this. I am, at present, unable to give this year’s Autumn any kind of poetic identity or eternality in writing as I don’t feel connected to it from within. The experience is underwhelming, to say the least, a rather distorted perception, but I can’t make it be anything other than what it is. As irritating as it is, I wouldn’t dream of trying to expel it or force it out- it may sound counter-intuitive, to immerse yourself in the absence of positive emotion, but it is the essence of what I am innately doing. I am embracing my feelings towards this Autumn and am content that, in time, they will work themselves out and run their natural course.
I don’t have very much else to add about this sensation. I am enjoying the quiet and allowing myself time to wonder- it frees up a remarkable amount of space in your mind.