Writer’s block feels like that time my cell phone died in my sophomore year of college right after midterms.
I can’t quite articulate why I’ve found it so difficult to write these past few months, mainly because I don’t actually know.
I started this blog when I was a senior in college, in the midst of taking graduate courses, getting ready to graduate from undergrad, start student teaching, and trying to cope with my social anxieties the only way I knew how: sarcasm.
Three years later, I’m still extremely socially awkward, full of anxiety when forced to spend time with others, and extremely sarcastic. The difference is I’m also a teacher, and being a teacher has given me a super hero cape that allows me to use my awkwardness to my advantage. I readily admit to my students that I’m weird and awkward, which, honestly, is something everyone should be proud of.
Yet, I can’t admit to myself– or the readers I have left– why I struggle to write.
It’s not that I don’t have anything to say– believe me, I’m as opinionated as ever! I think I just realized, with more and more students finding my blog and calling me “blog famous Ms. B” in the halls, that the false sense of privacy I once had in hiding behind a computer screen is no longer there.
It’s harder to be vulnerable in your online identity when your online identity merges with your professional identity.
So, I’m going to try to write more. When I make my students write, I’ll write. When I have 5 minutes, I’ll free write. I’ll dig out the writing prompt book I purchased on clearance for my students and use it for myself.
Because, honestly, writing has saved my self-identity before. I’m not ready to give up the writer-aspect of who I am quite yet.