In the past seven months, I've written a lot. In addition to providing my loyal blog readers with semi-regular rants and raves, I've written (and subsequently preached) approximately thirty sermons. And I still experience a persistent writerly anxiety that I am completely incapable of writing another word, and that last poem/ blog post/ sermon has exhausted my pen once and for all. Nearly every week I fret over a blank Word document, irrationally convinced that I have nothing more to say about anything. And nearly every week, I print out something passable on Sunday morning. Occasionally, I'm genuinely happy with what I've written. And occasionally I am vastly disappointed. The sermonic specimen from last week was a real doozy, and not in a good way. B O R I N G. (And if you dare shoot over to the sermon blog to check out the wreckage, I will know. My Sitemeter spies are hard at work. Click that link on another week.)
I'm in a deeper slump than usual. The deadline for the RevGalBlogPals Ordinary Time devotional book passed a week ago, and I still have three to go. In the meantime, I'm trying to shake the memory of boring myself in the pulpit. My instinct is that my reading and writing levels are unbalanced - that I need to take an afternoon off and read some fantastic prose to get back into the spirit. But that might just be the lethargic procrastination talking.
How, praytell, does one get past writers' (/preachers') block?