Writer, blocked.

It was all going so well.

Earlier this year, it seemed that a new creative streak had grabbed hold of me. Needing an outlet for some creative type of writing now that I'm working with much dryer source material than I was at the paper, I joined a writer's group. For several weeks--months, even--I attended regularly as my schedule allowed and brought in short stories that I'd write for our exercises.

These were actually pretty good little pieces as well. I was surprised how much of a story could be written in just 48 hours with just two words given to me. The exercises stretched my creative muscles and I found myself surprised at the work I was creating...these weren't brilliant pieces but, given the constraints, most of them were fairly solid and I discovered an affinity for working with broken, flawed characters.

Not only that, but other types of writing got a little creative push as well. I blogged more regularly and passionately, not afraid to stir up a little controversy over politics and theology. I even began working on a novel, transforming a screenplay I had written in college into something a little more literary and fleshed-out. I was a writing machine and even decided it was time to close out my Xanga account--which felt so amateurish--and start two new blogs: one devoted to film, the other the one you're reading right now.

And then suddenly, it stopped.

Not totally, mind you. I still pick up some freelance movie reviews for the paper and, upon publication, they find their way into my blog (http://motownmovies.blogspot.com for your information). And I'm sure I've made some half-hearted attempts at writing short stories or getting back into the novel.

But for the most part, out of nowhere, it cooled down quite a bit. Most alarmingly was the sudden disinterest in blogging. Faithful readers of my Xanga (and yes, they were out there) could attest that I was an addicted blogger; nearly every day I wrote some sort of post and it wasn't uncommon for me to write an entry two, maybe three, times a day. Lately, it's been rare to get two posts in the same month!

What's even more odd is that it stopped just as I was getting into it. The week I turned 30, which was the week I opened this blog, I was brimming with creativity. I had posts on turning 30, meditations about life and creativity, new writing exercises and a good run of movie reviews. And then, not a month later, things just kind of ground to a halt. The writing exercises ceased first. Then the movie reviews began to get more sporadic (although to be fair, there was a period in August where I was running too much for work to see movies on the side). And then the daily blogging, which had been an outlet and source of sanity for me for five years, began to wither.

I recently began to wonder just what had caused this.

It couldn't have been turning 30--I don't think the symbolic change of a number is really enough to stifle your creativity.

It could very well have been the stress of many changes in my life--work got hectic for a bit, I had some major car issues and went through a move. Now that those things are settled down I'm starting to get some of those creative impulses back.

And it could also just be that the full-time writing I do during the week was starting to take its toll on my creative nature; I write about science, technology and business. Trust me, there's nothing creative, sexy or fun about the things I right during the week...but would that just make the need for a creative outlet even stronger?

And then it hit me. I did the one thing that was most-likely to send my writing off on the skids:

I fell in love.

Back a few weeks before my 30th birthday, I met K. And we hit it off and it developed into a nice, strong relationship. We've been dating about four months now and I couldn't be happier. Most of our weekends are spent together, we talk on the phone nearly every night and I absolutely, positively love everything about her. Yes, I'm also the sappy romantic who likes talking about his girlfriend every minute, thinks life gets so much better with her around and walks with a bit more of a spring in his step because of this new person in my life. It's pretty great.

But when your writing centers around broken, struggling characters navigating a post-Fall world, it kind of throws a twist into your writing mojo.

I know, I know: love is supposed to inspire people. Relationships give you a muse. The best writing has been about love and romance, filled with sonnets and poems. And I do believe K. is my muse; she inspires me to do my best and push myself.

But my fictional writing has always been about people who have to endure something. They struggle, question and grow. And when your head is in the clouds, it's hard to bring yourself to that level.

It brings up an interesting question: do artists, particularly writers, need tragedy to do their best work?

Looking back, most of my strongest writing came out of tumultuous periods in my life. I was most creative when I was broke, lonely and confused. The questions came easier, I was more willing to follow my imagination wherever it led and I found that the difficulty of my situations made me more empathetic toward my characters. Many other artistic types have said the same thing: that adversity is the soil in which story begins to grow.

But there's also truth in the fact that creativity responds to joy. As Christians, we should know this: we are worshippers by nature. Our job is to respond to what we see God doing. Our creativity--even if it venturs to dark places--is ultimately an expression of joy and worship over who God is and what He's doing. So as worshippers, we should find that any situation--tragic or joyful--is fertile ground for us to dig in our heels and start writing, painting, singing...whatever the gift is that God has blessed us with.

By the way, I don't think it's the relationship itself that has put a temporary halt on my creativity--and if it was, I'd be much happier being with K. and never writing again than to write without her. But I think it's so new and so nice right now that it's just shaken me off my routine and habits. As this new part of my life becomes a regular part of my life, I think I'll find my creative impulses coming back. My urge to blog has already started to be fired up again and I hope that soon I'll also be pulling my book of writing exercises off the wall and approaching that novel again. I even have the germ of an idea for a screenplay or two rattling around, so maybe I'm starting to get a bit ready to do some serious writing.

Maybe I just have to train myself that, no matter what the season or whatever the circumstance, to write. Even if it's no good, even if it falls flat. Just pick up the pen and write.

At least now I have someone by my side who can provide a captive audience.

--CW