I’ve heard all writers have it, and now I can no longer exclude myself.
It’s not the worst feeling in the world. The destination you have is the same as it was when you were hyper-motivated, but your sense of direction is off. There is nothing so disarming as a dancing compass when you’re trying to get somewhere. So while it does feel bad, and what you feel you must do at the present moment is unclear, it really isn’t that soul crushing.
Trust me, this is coming from someone who thought depression was normal after living with it for almost half my life.
What does a lost writer do? Look for meaning. If you’re Christian, the bible is a good place to start, so I started reading Psalms and found this quote:
I’m hurt and in pain;
Give me space for healing, and mountain air.
It came from Psalm 69 in the Message Bible. Anyway, in a moment of melodrama, I decided to become a hermit and live in the mountains. So I drove a quarter mile to this range of hills and got out of the car. “Today I go into the wilderness” I said to myself in my best Mexican accent.
What I forgot about in my quest for healing and mountain air is that I’m one of the worst hikers on earth. I don’t do it very often, and about halfway up this 800-foot hill I thought, “well, forget this”, in a slightly less Christian word choice. I turned around – the hill was much steeper looking down than it seemed going up. It took forever to get down, probably because of the sliding rocks and the fact that I ignored the ‘avalanche warning’ sign at the foot of the hill. There was no snow on this mountain, but when there’s an avalanche warning, you know the slope is pretty steep.
So yeah, I’m practically the worst Alaskan ever. My journey into the wilderness hadn’t even made it past the first ridge, and a poodle was barking at me from the house at the foot of the mountain. I couldn’t even get away from the fenced-in poodle.
If you’ve ever gone hiking, you’ve probably seen this character archetype: you’re exhausted and halfway up the mountain when you see these baby boomers powering down the hill. These people are in their seventies, really ugly, and can outhike most people in their 20’s. In Hailey Idaho, people are a lot like that, except without the ugly. In this introspective moment, these non-ugly old hikers became role models in my mind.
Still, how did the early trailblazers do this stuff? I can imagine Lewis and Clark trying to get down that hill: in the beginning they are inching their way down with dread and caution in their eyes; one month later, they are sprinting down those slopes like hungry mountain lions charging at an Argentine steakhouse. Sacagawea must have rolled her eyes when she saw those newbie hikers fresh out of the east coast. “I’ll go with these guys because they won’t last half an hour without me. Hopefully they’ll give up before this turns into a long-term committment.” But no, those two young adventurers imagined a future where old, good-looking people can run around in those wilderness hills for recreational purposes, before heading back to their coffee shops in downtown.
So that’s what I did. I got down the mountain and drove to my local coffeeshop, where they gave me a Yerba Maté Latte for free, thanks to a written review I had given them comparing them to Lord of the Rings and Narnia with a shot of espresso and vanilla syrup. Things are already looking up. From there, I sat down and proceeded to just write about whatever.
It just goes to show, when you feel bad, things can still turn around for the better really quickly. So hang in there.
