My New BFF

I tweeted, ” Off to battle w/writer’s block!” and @LisaMilesBrady replied: “Don’t beat it. Befriend it. The block wants to talk to u. Write the convo. :)”

So, okay, I’ll write the convo:

Me: Hello, Writer’s Block, how are you today?

Writer’s Block: Oh, I’m just peachy. And don’t think you’re gonna get around me with that little ‘convo’ ruse. I’m too smart for that.

Me: Oh, really? We’ll see about that. But first, a message from our sponsor while I go do something I don’t really have to do right now…

Writer’s Block: Told you. [smug smile]

LONG PAUSE

Me: Okay, I’m back.

Writer’s Block: Welcome back, what can I do for you today?

Me: Well, first… you can tell me what you are, exactly. Because I’ve been told there’s no such thing as writer’s block.

Writer’s Block: EXCUSE ME? I am most definitely real, young lady. And I’m a little offended at that remark.

Me: I’m just telling you what I heard. Don’t take it personally.

Writer’s Block: Well, I don’t know how else to take it, frankly. For a writer to say I don’t exist is like Florida without sunshine.

Me: Ah, so you admit that I’m a writer! And that’s a really sucky metaphor, btw.

WB: Simile. It’s a sucky simile. And you can’t have writer’s block unless you’re a writer, silly.

Me: Just answer the question, please.

WB: Question? Oh — what am I? Hmm. I am your Resistance, your fear that you have nothing worth saying. I am here to protect you from making a fool of yourself in public. I’m your best friend, actually.

Me: You’re full of shit, actually.

WB: Hahaha! I love this friendly banter. It’s like we’re bonding or something.

Me: Or something.

WB: You don’t enjoy this?

Me: Not really. Well, maybe a little. Okay, yes. I’m enjoying this – begrudgingly.

WB: I’ll take that. I’ve always wanted us to be friends, you know.

Me: No, I didn’t know. I thought we were mortal enemies.

WB: Oh, heavens, no! I love you! I can’t believe you didn’t know that.

Me: Love?! WTF? Excuse me while I go do something else I don’t really have to do right now…

LONG PAUSE

Me: Are you still here?

WB: Of course. I’m always here for you.

Me: Stop that! That’s just — creepy.

WB: Sorry.

Me: Now, what is this love shit?

WB: Don’t you remember? Susan Johnstone says in her Wisdom of Your Resistance class that your Resistance [that's me] is protecting you from things that have hurt you in the past.

Me: Yes, I remember.

WB: And I wouldn’t try to protect you if I didn’t love you, now, would I?

Me: I hate it when you talk like that.

WB: Sorry, I can’t help it. It’s just who I am.

Me: You’re not a WHO! You’re a what. And anyway, you’re just a part of me.

WB: Exactly! That’s what Susan says you should say to yourself at random times during the day: “A part of me…” and then finish the sentence with how you’re feeling right now. I’m just a part of you!

Me: Still creepy.

WB: I’m thinking it’s a lot like the whole multiple personality thing, you know, like in Three Faces of Eve, where Joanne Woodward’s various personalities eventually meld back together into one? Maybe we could do that.

Me: Yeah, I need to think about that. I really don’t like you, and I don’t think I want to ‘meld’ with you.

WB: That’s okay. I’m a little hurt by that, but I’m trying to understand — why don’t you like me? What have I ever done but protect you? [tears well up]

Me: Oh, Christ. Are you actually having a hissy fit? Please.

WB: Answer me!

Me: You want the truth? You want the truth? YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!

WB: Well… yeah. That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?

Me: The truth is that you have stopped me from achieving my dreams — all of them. Every time — except that one time when I got really mad, too mad to hear you, and went looking for a better job and got it — but every other time I had a big dream, you knocked it down. Squelched it, with your fear and your what if’s and your I can’ts. I had some wonderful opportunities, like that full scholarship to USC film school, and that writing class where the professor loved my work so you wouldn’t let me go back to class, and the time that big literary agent wanted to read more of my book, and you stopped me cold. What the HELL were you protecting me from? Huh? And what are you protecting me from now?

WB: You’re supposed to be making friends with me. Yelling doesn’t help.

Me: [sigh] Okay. Sorry I yelled. But can you tell me, please? What are you protecting me from?

WB: You know.

PAUSE

Me: Oh. That.

WB: Yes.

Me: Really? The Abyss?

WB: Yes.

Me: The blank page — the blank brain? That’s it?

WB: Yes, and…

Me: And — I can’t say it. I’m scared.

WB: Go ahead, it’s okay. No one but you and I will know.

Me: That’s not true. You know I have to blog this.

WB: Okay, but they’re you’re friends, they’ll understand.

Me: All right. [deep breath] I’m afraid — that I’m stupid. I can’t keep up with the other kids. I’m afraid they’ll find out.

Oh — I just had a flash of where this came from: 7th grade, when I went from being the smartest kid in the 6th grade to the dumbest kid in the gifted class. That’s how it felt, anyway. And nobody seemed to know how to help me get through it, so I didn’t. I flunked out of algebra and Latin, and learned instead how it feels to be the dumb kid — not good at all. That year, and the next 5 years, scarred me for life.

WB: See? I was just trying to keep you from going through that again.

Me: Yeah, I do see. Thank you. I appreciate that. And now that I understand what’s up with you, maybe we can work together. What do you think?

WB: How so?

Me: Well, you could point out potential danger to me, and I could thank you for pointing that out, and then I could take a closer look and let you know if I need you. How does that sound?

WB: I like it. :)

Me: Me too. :)

THEY HUG, GINGERLY.

Image credit: Ronie