This guest post is by author Zach Tamer.
For nearly a year I have found it very hard to put pen to paper, as the saying goes. I don’t know if you could call it writer’s block as much as writer’s avoidance. I have been trying to find my way back to my old habits, trying to set aside time to write each day, but each day I find a new excuse not to write. I wake up too late to write in the morning, I get out of work too late to write at night, I have to meet a friend for Happy Hour, I have to clean, there is a new show that I want to watch, a new book that I want to read, and the list goes on ad nauseum.
The reality of the matter is that ten months ago I lost my writing partner, the person I bounced ideas off, the person I called when I finished a poem, the person who called me when they finished a poem, the person who recommended new books, the person who I called Dad. As Father’s Day came and went I have found myself writing more, or at least attempting to write. I have been forcing myself to sit and stare at the blinking cursor until something ends up on the page. Usually what ends up on the page could be likened to the scribblings of a kindergartner wielding a giant crayon, but with each attempt I get that much closer to getting back into a groove. I haven’t been happy with much that I have written recently but I have found the process to be very therapeutic. It has been like rekindling a relationship with an old friend I didn’t know I needed in my life so badly.
One of the things I’ve done to help me dive back into writing has been to do some freelance work for a travel blog. I’ve just begun writing for a blog all about Bogota, Colombia. Bogota holds a lot of wonderful memories for me and with these memories, words have begun to spill out on the page. As I revisited some of the familiar sights and smells of the city I thought maybe it would help me to revisit some of the poems my father and I wrote for our book. As I thumbed through the pages I realized I could still bounce things off him. I could see his writing style, see the things that I loved in his work, and the things that he loved in mine. I could still hear him reading his poems and making comments after I read mine. I still talk to him, and while I’ll never know if he hears me I hope I’m not just a crazy person talking to the air. I’d like to think that we join the particles that make up this earth when we pass on. Many times, I could swear he hears me, that my dad really is a part of everything, and that thought helped me to write a poem.
You Will Be
You will be the star
on a starless night
showing me the way
with your guiding light.
The single drop of rain
that splashes on the ground
in the dirt beneath my feet
evaporating without a sound.
The snow that falls overhead
just hanging from the pines.
Branches about to break
like I’ve nearly done so many times.
The air that I breathe
that fills up my chest
fills me with memories
until there’s nothing left.
Sometimes I wonder
where you are today
then the breeze hits my ears
and I hear you say,
“I went back from where I came
So, quiet all your fears.
Go lie in the sun
and let me dry your tears.”
The words still don’t come as easily as they used to, but the rust is flaking off each time I write. I’m sure that writer’s block will strike again. I’ll find new excuses, and new ways to avoid writing altogether but next time I’ll know how to find my way back. For me, it was starting the habit of sitting at the computer, and I found that if I had the time to sit and watch the cursor blink, I certainly had the time to try to churn out coherent sentences. I also found a topic, a point in time, that was filled with wonderful memories and I let it permeate my senses until it came out in words. If you are currently facing the dreaded “block” chip away at it until you tunnel to the other side. Harness the beautiful memories in your life that help the light filter through, and before you know what’s happening the words will find the page, and you will realize that nothing is insurmountable.
By: Zach Tamer
BACCA Literary 