Must I write in a vacuum?

For a while now, I’ve been having trouble writing stories. It seems like the only thing I can formulate together are my thoughts, but they’re not translating into stories, scenes or characters, it’s just all me. These words bouncing around in the emptiness of my brain, while the insecurities of not ‘making use of the time’ ricochets back and forth with it are all roaming free and unhinged - I don’t know what I am doing, but it feels like I’m meant to be doing something.

The pressure of constantly filling up nothingness with something is overwhelming, the idea that my brain needs to be working in a specific way every single day to achieve the dream of becoming a successful creative person is doing the opposite of what I need it to do. I am stagnant. Amidst the world bending sideways for the coronavirus pandemic, I’m here worrying about words and how my creative brain is failing to create stories and films, which I’m pretty sure no one is interested to consume at this moment in time anyway. But what annoys me right now, is me trying to understand why I even need to write - why must I write in a vacuum? What purpose does it serve for me to force myself to create the most profound piece of work, only to later realise it doesn’t make sense and I never wished to create it in the first place? Why am I so concerned about doing this? - questions that I don’t have the answer to yet.

At the beginning of this thought-provoking journey, I assumed it was my imposter syndrome kicking in, the usual friendly internal neighbour renting a large space in my brain, that plays the loud music of ‘I’m not good enough. So I paid her a visit. Located in the most creative part of my mind, where her apartment sat closest to the sun. As I burst through the doors, I came to realise I had walked into an empty home, that tenant had been evicted and in fact, currently roams the streets of my mind, quietly whispering the song that once kept me idle. It would be lazy of me to blame this on her - she no longer holds the power. Having failed to find the answer there, I resumed my journey.

I began to wonder and think deeper, what is something that has changed between now and before? The pandemic! I realised the lockdown for the Covid-19 has restricted my once freedom for doing other things outside creating. I visited the busiest part of my mind, the place that creates my to-do list. I was sure the answer was here - my use for distractions, socialising and excuses for a busy life no longer exists. I no longer have the blanket of ‘faux busy’ to hide under, I’m not too busy to write anymore, I’m not caring for my grandma right now, I’m not needed for any external pieces of work, no one is calling me, I don’t have to pay for transport, therefore I’m not as broke as I was before - so then why am I not writing?

At this point in my journey I became tired of searching through the places of my mind - thinking, but committed to the cause of understanding why I can’t write was really bothering me, so I proceeded to go through the gallows near the truth. As I arrived in the gallows, located to the eastern side of my mind, much quieter than the rest. I was sure I’d find what I needed to know here and whilst going through these gallows, I saw a conversation walk past, it was a quote that someone had said to me earlier; “you seem like someone who gets inspiration from living life, but as you’re not doing much living life at the moment, maybe your creative inspiration is cut off and restricted” - this felt like my eureka moment! How did I not think of this before? Of course, that makes sense, I’m so much of a lifer, so now that life has changed, I am restricted. My creative lifeline is dead right now and that’s why I can’t write. Duh!

I was satisfied with this answer, I had found the truth (or so I thought), so I decided to make my return journey to sanity, where my thoughts were being settled. I found peace during my return journey back, there was no excess baggage of doubt or negative thoughts, just blissful ignorant joy. But like always in a journey, there’s something to shake things up. I saw something floating in the air, it looked like a clouded question mark, I was curious by the sight of this thought, so I reached out to touch it… and there it was, my blissful joy deflating as the words of the clouded question mark burst into the air - “How comes you were able to write when you were the busiest person in the world?”

It was right. All those stories I had written during the most uncomfortable times in my life, had been successfully written and completed during those times. The clouded question mark had made me realise I had not yet found the truth, so I had to turn back to my journey to find it. I needed to understand why I couldn’t write these stories, why I couldn’t create any new scripts. I rushed far past all the destinations I had previously reached before and finally came to a big black hole. The truth was in there and all I had to do was walk through it… so I did.

You wouldn’t believe what I saw, planted at the furthest corner in my mind was this big black hole, filled with an endless garden of seeds. I was confused because I’m not much of a gardener, but I guess this meant something. Maybe the truth was one of these seeds, so I looked around and came across a bright yellow flower in the middle of the large patch of seeds. Is this the truth? Is this my reason for not writing? this beautiful yellow flow? I couldn’t wait any longer, so I went to the flower and as it blossomed right in front of me, I saw the words appear… “The story will find you”.

Everything went blank. I was surrounded by this white vacuum and was left with this blossomed yellow flower - “the story will find you”. I had nothing and was sitting in nothingness and sat with my bright yellow flower in nothingness. This journey was a waste, I was tired and frustrated. What kind of God would create such a complicated process of understanding, only to leave me with nothing?

But tell me, did I not just type a story out of my thoughts just now? It doesn’t look like a script, but it is a story, right? I believe the kind of God who created such a complicated process of understanding is innovative and clearly has a thing for non-linear narratives. “Must I write in a vacuum?” I asked earlier… well, if the story is there, then yes.

P.s My advice to anyone struggling right now… don’t look for the story you want to write, write the story that’s looking at you.