According to Wikipedia:
“Writer’s block is a condition, primarily associated with writing, in which an author loses the ability to produce new work or experiences a creative slowdown. The condition ranges in difficulty from coming up with original ideas to being unable to produce a work for years. Throughout history, writer’s block has been a documented problem.”
It’s been years since I wrote anything, if you don’t count Facebook updates and paychecks to my ex-wife. I don’t know if it is writer’s block, lack of ambition or plain laziness, but the result is all the same. Zilch.
But I have read. Oh, how I read.
And then, one day it just hit me – He who can, write. He who cannot, writes reviews.
Because there is nothing like taking out all of the frustration that had been building inside you for years by criticizing the work of others. It is also an excellent way to produce words and letters and release the creative urge that had been shelved for ages. And if you can lash out at this manuscript or that manuscript, why, it would be the embodiment of the good old, tension releasing catharsis.
Ah, envy, my green eyed friend and companion. After all, any of the authors getting treated by my sharpened pen, as awful as they might have been, hhave succeeded where I have failed.
So, with this wide awakened self-awareness and with plenty of good will for journalistic integrity, I will try to describe my reading experiences exactly as they are. What I liked, what I hated, what I have read over and over again and what I have thrown away in disgust half across reading.
Your comments and opinions are (obviously) welcome