Today I had the last meeting of one of my creative writing courses. As always, this meeting is a celebration of self-expression. Each of the members has to bring something to read which we did not read before. and something to eat. We read and eat and talk.
The meeting always begins with free writing. “Please open your notebooks and write three pages in free writing,” I say. The students are surprised. During the course, I began each lesson with an assignment that is closely connected to the subject of the meeting: memory, senses, feelings, inner voices, etc. This is the first (and last) meeting in which I ask them to write freely, without giving them any writing prompt.
“But what should we write about?” they ask in wonderment.
“I really don’t know. Just put your pen on the notepad and let it run.” I smile. “Remember that this is what you should do daily. This is what writers do. They sit at a table every day and write at least 15 minutes or three pages or 1000 words.”
They all did, and so did I. And after we finished anyone had something to read.
This morning, most of the members read texts they have written a long time ago. Surprisingly, the texts they read revealed things we did not know about them. I have told then that I am surprised that only today, in our last meeting, we hear about their true stories, most of them dramatic stories which must be written.
But I am not surprised at all. people who are not professional writers find it difficult to share their inner wounds with others. It takes time to grasp that the only way to tell a story is, to be honest, and direct with yourself and with others. It takes courage. Only when you do so you learn, that you are human, as your peers are. That each one of us has an emotional wound to heal, and that we share the same human experience in different routes.
The last meeting of a creative writing workshop gives you courage because you think, ah, I am not going to meet this guy anyway, so why don’t give them the shock of the revelation of my true story.
I do not believe in writer’s block. I am too old to believe it. you might have an emotional block. you might be afraid to touch something, to expose yourself, to talk about a family secret or to get immersed in your pain. You might be afraid of getting lost in your abyss. But this is not a writer’s block. such feelings actually indicate that you are on the verge of revelation, that you must dig into your fear, into your pain, because that is exactly where your vein of gold is hidden.
The Writer’s block is used too easily. It conceals suppressed emotions that should and must be out. In other cases, it stands for inconsistency in your writing, for bad writing habits, for discongruity. this is not laziness, nor boredom. it is a consequence of being un aimed, unfocused and ambivalent about writing and what the writing process is: writing every day with all you have. your feelings, the weather around you, the view you see out of your window. Writing is writing every day.
When you do so, you get connected to the cosmic flow. you become tuned. words come out of your pen with no effort. you dance on your page. You write as I wrote this post, in English, which is not my mother tongue, prior to Hebrew. And I do it on purpose, as I do not want to translate my thoughts from Hebrew into English. So I write in English first.
https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/a-single-gay-father-s-writing-retreat-lgbt#/
thegaymomdad 
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