Finding Your Blocks, By Jeanne Felfe
My mom was a writer. Like many of us, she had big dreams. Hers were never realized; at least not the way she wanted them to be. She passed away in 2012 with her life’s work—a memoir focused on multi-generational child abuse—sitting in a folder in a drawer, turned down by every publisher. This was back in the day when memoir wasn’t all the rage it is now, before the internet or digital made it easy to research and edit, and when the only path to publication was either a traditional press or vanity. If she’d had the money, she would’ve taken that last path—of this I’m certain.
I had always wanted to write, even as a kid, and dabbled for many years, never quite seriously. It wasn’t until I retired from my corporate career in 2012, six months after Mom died, that I became serious. My muse continued to tease me, ramping me up with ideas only to fail me when I sat down. It took me another few months of pretending to write, before I finally questioned why I wasn’t writing consistently.
What was standing in my way? I had all the time in the world. I could have blamed it—and did actually—on writer’s block. You know, that beast we all blame when the words won’t come. But trust me on this…it’s a trap. There is truly no such thing as writer’s blocks. There are only blocks that keep as from writing. And there is a difference.
Once you’ve cleared all the obvious blocks—time, a quiet place, maybe some training on craft—if you are still not writing, but claim you want to, you must go deeper. I did that quite by accident one day while weeding a garden. I wrote about it in my award-winning essay, Amidst the Weeds, originally published by Fiftiness.
I was suddenly struck by the realization that I no longer needed to compete with my mother. I hadn’t even realized it was a fear—that somehow me achieving writing success might drive my severely mentally ill mother to finally succeed in her suicidal attempts. Although my rational, logical brain knew she’d have been nothing but proud of me, the teen who quaked inside me—the one who’d saved her from one such attempt—well, she didn’t know this. But Mom was gone now.
Figuring this out changed everything about my writing life. Clearing that particular block opened the proverbial flood gates and I became prolific. Within three years, I’d published multiple short stories and my first novel, and became active in my local 125+ member writer’s guild—Saturday Writers—where I now serve on the board. Since then, over thirty short stories, poems, and essays have appeared in a variety of anthologies.
But an interesting thing has happened—I’ve become driven to succeed, to the exclusion of almost everything else. Don’t get me wrong, I love writing and helping others with their publishing careers, but it took my recent carpal tunnel surgeries to slow me down enough to begin to re-enjoy the other aspects of my life, like reading, meeting friends for lunch, and just having fun outside of writing.
I took time to ponder, and simply be with my thoughts. It struck me during a particularly emotional episode of This is Us (aren’t they all?) that there was yet another component in my relation with Mom I’d not yet explored. A part of me feels like I have to succeed for both of us. She didn’t have the enormous opportunities authors have today. Whether that would’ve made a difference for her or not, I can’t say. But in many ways it feels like I’m pushing the boulder for us both.
I miss my mom and wish she’d had all the success she longed for. But if she were here, she would be my biggest Super Fan. My greatest cheering section. I know this beyond any doubt. And she would want me to follow my passion, for myself alone. She would tell me that she’d had her time.
We all have boulders thrown onto our paths. Some by others; many of our own making. We can either go around them, climb over them, or smash them to bits. Or we can let them stop us. The choice is ours, assuming we take the time to figure out what the real block is. We can blame it on writer’s block, but in reality it’s always something else. What’s your block?
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Jeanne Felfe is a fiction and non-fiction author living in St. Charles, MO with her perpetual fiancé and two dogs who think they are tiny fur-covered humans.
Find out more about Jeanne on her website https://jeannefelfe.com/
Connect with her on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/author.JeanneFelfe/
Connect with her on Twitter: https://twitter.com/JFelfe
Connect with her on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jeannefelfe/
When life falls apart, Julianne must embark on a journey of the heart and soul…
Julianne Garvoli’s life as a wife and pediatric nurse is perfect. She is following her every dream … or so she believes. After her idyllic world is shattered, her life spins out of control. A photo ignites a long-forgotten yearning.
World famous photographer, Jokob O’Callaghan, lives a life most could only imagine, traveling the country with his wife—until cancer delivers a direct and devastating slam. Numb with grief, he walls himself off and buries his suffering in his artwork.
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Jeanne Felfe delivered a torrent that left me speechless, white-knuckled and gripping the safety bar, yet all the while cheering—Heather Rexon, Editor
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