Blocked.

When it comes to cracking my knuckles and starting my book again, I don’t know if being painfully aware of the fact that people only understand something from their own perspective gives me the absolute expansive freedom to write whatever I please or if it simply makes any attempt to finish a piece that aims to fight stigma, completely pointless.

I’ve let go of all the inevitable perks publishing would bring and started to focus more so on the therapeutic benefits of writing my story out once and for all. This seems to be a healthier approach, although I can’t let go of of the dream of being published entirely, because let’s face it, this is what drives me to write bolder.

Since I’m currently focused on catharsis, someone could argue that this would be enough incentive to finish. But I’m stuck. Maybe it’s simply a turning point in my writing journey where I need to assess my goals and the purpose while letting go of all possible outcomes.

I think I’m more hung up on potential outcomes and what others will think, than I am hung up on the trauma I’ve faced having to relive it all over again through writing. As writers, we need to immerse ourselves back into the wilderness of our experiences in order to protray the depth and scope needed, and this can be triggering for me. It’s a very fine line between being a therapeutic tool and a trigger that sends me over the edge.

Trigger or not, it’s the awareness of my fears that will allow me to combat them. I need to find a way to break through this barrier and maybe it is as simple as knowing that no matter how hard we may try to skew, influence or change someone’s vantage point, they will only understand it based on what they feel they know and their own experiences. Unless they’ve gone through it themselves.

Which begs the question, Who Are We Writing For? Is the audience of one (ourselves) really enough? If we broaden the audience to include everyone, freedom seems to shrink. Reckless abandon ceases to exist and excruciating concern for the feelings of others enters stage left.

But does it have to?

These are just some questions I have for my studio team this week, who I have yet to meet. I need an answer to a complex question wrapped up in a simple mantra that I can grasp and repeat.

I take it seriously because having a story held within that you can’t get out becomes this sickness and it literally racks my brain. I need a release and I’m frustrated.

My story involves one that no one, not even therapists know anything about. It’s a beautiful story that unfolded over the last ten years, in and out of mania and psychosis, and encompasses everything that a riveting story would bring to the table – romance, love, lust, tragedy, comedy, thrill, mystery, spirituality, other-worldy phenomena, delusions, psychotic experiences, sex, drugs and rock and roll… etc… etc… etc…

And this is simply the hidden story in my mind that drove me to do what I did for ten years. How to tie in reality and my dream-state, while also relying heavily on screen-play language for possible adaptations is a whole new obstacle.

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