One of the most dreaded things in a writer’s life is writer’s block. Writing a few words, a sentence, and then pause while the cursor blinks rapidly only to hit backspace and go back to the beginning makes me feel like Tantalus. But I have to admit that doesn’t happen often. My problem rarely has to do with moving the story forward (even those who’ve talked to me only a few times know I have an overactive imagination and have no problem stringing words together).

The thing that puts a giant stop sign to my writing is my mood. I can’t sit down and write when whatever happens in my life upsets or makes me sad. It’s a bad thing I know, because one shouldn’t let their personal life interfere with their work. I can’t call in sick at the bank when I’ve had a tiff with my boyfriend or a huge fight with my family. Nor can I stay home because my BFF’s had a misunderstanding and I have to pick up the pieces. I just suck it up and punch in (even though what I really want to do is punch someone). I smile and am polite to every customer because I have to leave my personal issues at the bank’s door until it’s time to go home. Then I can be Lisa Troy the person again and not Lisa Troy the bank employee.

But writing has a lot to do with a person’s soul and emotional state (for me anyway). So when I feel unbalanced, the last thing I want/can do is sit down and write about other people, fictional people who have their own problems, joys, sorrows, and find a way to lead them to a HEA (happily ever after) when that isn’t remotely visible in my own life. Not to mention I have to be able to listen to their voices in my head in order to do so, which isn’t an easy feat when my own voice drowns them out. That’s why I find excuses, all kinds of excuses not to open the Word file of the moment and finish my WIP (work in progress). I remember emails I have to send, friends I need to call, ‘oh, let’s make some coffee first’. I even promote my book, which is one of the things I really don’t like about the writing business. And I won’t even mention the biggest time-sucker of all: Twitter.

Hence why I haven’t written anything in the last 4 months, besides bits and pieces here and there.

Granted, bad things have been hitting me one after another since Christmas, but I’m stronger than that. I shouldn’t let the pettiness, rudeness, and fakeness of others rule my life.

I’m a creature that grows accustomed to a certain routine. If I start rolling down the hill, I’ll be barreling down in no time and I’ll keep going ’til I crash. Which is why I need to break the habit. I can’t let people affect me to such a degree, whether it’s because of their actions towards me or problems of their own. I have to flip the switch and push everything to the back of my mind during the time I write. I love writing and I feel like I’ve allowed certain people to steal that joy from me. And no, I’m not blaming them.

I’m blaming me.

I recognize I’m a sensitive person, one who will sit down and listen to a stranger’s problems and offer advice if asked, but I need to draw the line because this is hurting me in many levels. Not only do I deprive myself of precious free time to write, but I’m often disappointed because most of the people I will listen to are never there to return the kindness. I haven’t figured out how to do that and still stay true to who I am, but I’m working on it.

This is me telling me that enough is enough.