Outside of blogging, it’s been a long time since I’ve put pen to paper – or in the case of modern technology, fingers to keyboard – to write something creative. There was a time when every spare moment I had was used for writing creatively, even back into the days where I would buy blank notebooks and fill them with words. I used to love writing, in a way that I can’t seem to anymore. I don’t know if it is perhaps because my childish enthusiasm has waned as I have fallen into the mindless trap of adulthood, or if it simply that I can no longer do it. Regardless of the reason, I can’t help but feel like something is lacking, and it is something I intend to rectify.

Perhaps one of the reasons for this inability to create is my lack of time. Working six days a week leaves me very limited time to do anything fun, and often I end up doing things by halves, in an attempt to fit as much into my singular day off as possible. Writing has felt like a chore for a long time, if I am being honest, an my lack of spare time could be a contributing factor in all of that. But I’m not one for hiding behind excuses, and the other significant reason for my lack of writing, is because I haven’t been inspired. Lack of inspiration leaves me staring at an empty screen, and I end up giving up entirely, to the point where I don’t even try anymore. Where writing was once easy, these days its akin to pulling teeth out with a pair of chopsticks; ineffective, and frustrating.

I have this notion, that if I lived in my own house, and had a dedicated writing space, and all the time in the world, then I would write constantly. But despite the pretty fantasy, the truth is that I probably still wouldn’t write like I used to, I’d just perhaps be more content with my life. I feel like my creativity is being slowly, systematically stamped out of me by the daily grind, and monotony of adulthood. Can I still be called a creative person if I haven’t written anything creative in months? If I can’t recall the last time I sat at a sewing machine and made a garment? If my painting has fallen by the wayside, and I’ve not picked up a brush in six months? I feel like a part of me is missing, and I don’t know how to get it back.

I notice it even in my most recent blog posts, as I read back over them I notice a distinct lack of style. My writing has begun to sound lazy, childish. I need a reset, or…I don’t know, something. At this point I’d take a baseball bat to the head if it meant I would come out of it with my creative streak energised. Whatever the cause of this creative block, I need to find a solution, and fast. Because I’m lost, and my life is a whole lot more dull and colourless at the moment.