I`m no stranger to writers block. I have been telling stories since I could hold a pen, and my creativity is not a continuous free-flowing source that is available when I consult it. Throughout the years, I learned that sometimes a break is the cure, of a variable length. Sometimes, changing your perspective is the cure. Sometimes, seeking ideas elsewhere might spark a story. When that doesn`t help, patience is a virtue. Unfortunately it is not one that I have, and I have been pacing back and forth, bidding my time until my mind functions again. It`s the intensity of it that got the best of me this time, the pressure placed upon me by myself that led to my downfall. I worry too much, and my writing becomes impersonal and rugged. I see a deadline and already think of the consequences of not making it, and it is a heavy burden to carry. I`m far from the finish line with my current project, and even further away than I should be. I have reached a point where I hesitate before I type, second-guess the sentences I string together, doubt whether the plot is strong enough to hold its own on a shelf of remarkable pieces of fiction. Doubt can build a barrier for inspiration. Fear can too. But then you remember why you started in the first place. You remember the day where the idea formed at an inconvenient time, jotted down words that looking back make little sense. Remember the moment you wrote the first sentence that later on has been rewritten, remember the thrill when the plot was beginning to form. Remember the hard work and joy and sorrow and excitement. You remember the passion that you feel in your very bones, the way your heart beats faster when you are in the middle of a good scene. And then, suddenly, you remember why you put yourself through the hardships. It`s demanding and time-consuming, nerve-wrecking and challenging, but the art of storytelling is endlessly rewarding for those who are passionate.