one small corner of the universe

Hi. My name is HD, and I have writer’s block.

There, I said it. I thought you should know, as I have been promising my version of wit and creativity for, well, the entire summer. No doubt you’ve noticed it just isn’t happening. I find it strange indeed that my creative juices flow more smoothly during the school year when I am a self-proclaimed maniac. Perhaps that’s the key, a possibility I am loathe to consider, what with all the complaining I do about my job. If I’m a better writer, a more creative being, while swimming in the miasma of public education, what of my dream of someday working from home as a writer? What on earth would I accomplish, given the singular lack of creativity I’ve experienced this summer? Of course, I could once again blame pregnancy, but I don’t think that’s fair to Chickie*, considering pregnancy alone provides endless topics to explore through writing. No, I’m afraid the problem is me.

You could argue that I simply allow myself to slip out of the habit during the summer–that practice is the key–and you’d most likely be right. When I found out I was pregnant I basically stopped blogging regularly; that, coupled with the fear that something might go wrong with my pregnancy, did a number on my writing habit. When I think back to the most productive writing I’ve ever done, there was always writing practice involved–daily, or at least weekly, idea gathering, journaling, and stream-of-consciousness freewriting. Before my god-daughter was born, P. and I used to meet at a local deli every week to write. We’d eat and chat, catch up on the week before, and then sit for an hour in blissful silence with our pens moving across the blank page. Now she’s getting ready to deliver kid #2, and I’m not far behind her, and I can’t help but wonder how the writer in me will handle motherhood. Who knows–it might be just what my brain needs to raise the bar. Time will tell.

In the meantime, given my hypothesis that my job is good for my writing, I should be quite witty and productive this fall, as I will still be working for Principal in my same old position. I mentioned a while back that I’d been offered a new job by a principal I very much wanted to work for, but thanks to a new policy in my school system, no post-transfer period transfers are being approved, even in cases where both the releasing principal and the hiring principal agree to the transfer. All current employees who wish to transfer must do so during the transfer period, January 3-March 31; after that, you basically have to either leave the system or resign and reapply if you want a new job in this system. The job I was offered became available in May, right around the time this new policy was put into effect. I checked the vacancy list religiously during the transfer period last spring and no school library positions were available then, and unfortunately, the move from classroom teacher to school librarian is a transfer, not a promotion, so the seven (count ’em: 7!) middle and high school library jobs that opened up in May were unavailable to me. Yes, it does suck, and yes, I am drafting a letter to the director of personnel.

So that’s where I am these days. It isn’t that there’s nothing interesting to talk about…more like my battery is low and I need a jump start. So during those times when you hear nothing from me, it’s because I’m looking at other blogs, reading the entries from Trista’s Scheherazade Project, devouring novels and poetry, and trying to reconnect with the creative part of my brain. I’m sure I can manage it. After all, I’ve admitted that I have a problem. Now I have my work cut out for me.

*Chickie is the in-utero name of my unborn child, because I found out I was pregnant on Easter Sunday, not to mention the whole egg connection. I’m mentioning it for the first time here, and I’ll be 18 weeks pregnant tomorrow. Kid isn’t even born yet, and already I’m neglecting it.