Don’t let “Writer’s Block” keep you from trying.

If it’s a skill, it can be crafted — to master it; you must practice it everyday.

I’m sure, we’ve all had our moments of “Ahh, I’m on Writer’s block”; I’ve come to realise it’s just a delusion.

After quitting my job, I was determined to pursue “Writing”; not just as a passion but as a discipline and devote the work-ethic required to refining it.

I’ve produced my fair-share of “crappy articles”, so I’ve been told.

I’ve also written a few I felt were great, but just didn’t get the response I’d hoped for.

I’ve written a few articles that I *hulk-smash!* typed into my computer and then forgot about the response, only to wake up and realise my Medium page is flooded with notifications — and I think to myself “Wait, what the…”.

You don’t ever know the response you’ll get.

But you won’t get a response at all, if you keep waiting for the “right moment” to strike.

I’ve had those moments, they seem to appear every now and then; it’s like an itch I just can’t quite resist scratching.

And I’ll type and I’ll type and I’ll type…without even thinking, there’s words flowing from my brain into my fingers into this tiny computer screen.

Yet, I continue to write everyday — because if I’m not trying, I’m not going to get my moments.

I look at writing as a Skill, a Craft — like upholstery.

I know I have to produce at least ONE piece per day — no matter the outcome.

If it’s crap, then it’s crap — that’s the beauty of writing on an open platform.

You keep writing, and not worry about the outcome.

…and in between those “crap” pieces, one may just end up hitting the mark.

And that’s all that I need to continue.

As featured before and a rant that I always mention in almost every piece I write about how I quit my corporate job,

One of the most satisfying comment I keep receiving from my ex-colleagues is,

“So how does it feel to be unemployed?”

“I’m writing.”

“So you’re still unemployed?”

“No, I’m making my life about more than a pay-check. How about you go back to collecting yours.”

The greatest skill I’ve come to admire, which gets me through phases where I feel a “Writing Block” coming on is — my trusty notebook.

Not my smartphone, an actual notebook — pocket sized, the one with the flip phone style.

Filled with gibberish.

Things that I’ve noticed.

Maybe it’s a dog taking a poo in the middle of a park, or a man wearing a suit wondering if the penny on the floor is his to pocket.

They’re my arsenal of inspiration, I can look through it any time I want — go back to the moment I wrote down that little note of gibberish and make something from it.

Sometimes the gibberish ends up being crap.

Sometimes the gibberish ends up resonating with people.

At the end of the day, I can appreciate my effort at making something of the gibberish.

And that’s all I really need to keep the gas-tank from running out.

I failed to learn the piano, so I decided I’d play the keyboard instead. //All aboard the Crazytrain.

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