Ever since the launch of The Gnarly Whale, I’ve been stuck.

It’s like my mind was on overdrive until the day we launched, and then as soon as I published the last listing, it stopped. Completely shut down.

I’ve started more posts than I’ve posted. I’ve had more ideas for posts than ever before. But they don’t formulate into readable and understandable words outside of my brain. They form incoherent thoughts that consistently remind me that I’m not writing as well as I’d like to be. That I’m not sharing my story the way that I would like to. And that I’m not bringing the real me to the blog in a way that I promised myself that I would.

So what happened? Why the sudden downfall of creativity after a major accomplishment was achieved? Did I lose my direction? Did I lose sight of the end goal? Am I trying to find my way out? Or did I just stop functioning because there was no longer a “next big thing” waiting for me to complete it as soon as I could?

I try to break free from it. A change of venue, a change of style, a change of time. I try blocking off time for creativity and non-work related items. And still I sit here, struggling to come up with the right words to tell you exactly how or what I’m feeling about life. About business. About anything.

Maybe it just takes time, and maybe I’m just too impatient, and maybe even a little selfish. But I want to keep the creativity flowing. I don’t want to search around in the dark for a switch that may not even be in the same spot every time. I want it to stay on, endlessly flowing, allowing me to bring my passion to the surface whenever it’s needed. Is that too much to ask?

The disconnect makes it harder and harder each day to write even another sentence because I’m always waiting. Waiting for the creativity to stop mid-sentence. Waiting for the words to stop coming. Waiting for my brain to wander on to the next thing, leaving me to accomplish nothing.

Do I push forward? Or do I stand back? Will it come naturally to me when I least expect it, or is it my job to find it? To try enough x amount of new things that I somehow manage to stumble upon where it was left?

I wish I knew the answer. No matter how hard it was, it would be easier to know what I’m doing. To know that the end is in sight, even if it’s not even close. To know that this was temporary, and not continuous. To know that if I fight for it, or if I wait for it, the creativity will stick and last for months or years, rather than just days or hours at a time.

On a side, very much so related note – today was the first time I got out a decent post, but it was free writing through the Write or Die site. The change of colors and promise of crazy sounds was enough to force me to write about my complaints about not being able to write, apparently.

Yesterday I said this on Twitter: Tons of ideas in my head for posts, but every time I sit down to write them – nothing comes out. Anyone else have this problem? Solutions?

And I got a lot of awesome answers that I’ve already tried or plan to try in the near future. But one idea stuck out to the point that I knew I had to give it a try right away. The lovely Breenah from By Breenah suggested setting a timer and free writing with no backspacing and no editing until the timer was up. I’ve seen others do this in the past, but always thought that it just wasn’t for me. But when Breenah brought it up, I knew now was the time to do it. And I am SO glad I did.

So here is what I came up with in 15 minutes. Spelling and grammar edited to make sure it was readable.

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I miss writing in a real journal.

Not worrying about what anyone else will think, not worrying about the kind of traffic my words bring, not worrying about how many views that an entry will have.

I used to write real words. Heartfelt, honest words that helped me cope and grow. Words that made me do more with my life rather than question what I was currently doing. I used to have elegant writing that flowed effortlessly. Now I’m stuck in a creative rut that leaves me frustrated, tired, and unsure of what I’m doing.

I don’t know how to get it back though. I struggle with how to find that balance between honesty and damaging. Damaging towards myself, those that affect me, or even just those that read the words I write. I struggle to write honestly and openly out of fear of singling out someone who may not even be reading my blog. There’s no single someone in mind when I write with that cautionary statement, but it’s always there. The possibility of offending someone you know or even someone you don’t know just by slipping up with a word or two that was never meant to offend someone, but it just came out wrong because you can’t explain yourself on the Internet every time your words are written.

A real journal didn’t possess that fear. Short of it falling into the wrong hands, those thoughts were secrets locked away with a hidden key. They were written for the same reasons – to express myself and to grow throughout life, but the meaning was never masked with an attempt to ensure no one was hurt. It was a judgement free zone.

Blogging and keeping a diary/journal are so very different for me, even though blogging grew from my days of being inseparable from a tangible notebook. When I first began blogging, I didn’t think they were different. And for a long time, I continued to believe that. Until I realized how much I have to edit myself or my words even though I’m rarely one to offend people. I edit with that fear always in mind as my fingers hit each key, always wondering if I’ll spark some unintended controversy when I just wanted to get something off my chest.

However, my life has always been about taking risks. Knowing that the bigger the risk, the higher the reward has always been the case for me . . . makes me realize it’s time to stop typing in fear and instead to start typing with intention. I’m not meant to please everyone. And I’m not meant to write for anyone but myself. So maybe it’s time to go back to basics. Maybe it’s time to write like it’s a journal, not a blog.