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Writer’s block, looking for something to write about

By Kaare Askildt

            Here I sit in front of my PC with writer’s block, wondering what to write about.

            I’m void of ideas and topics, at least for now. So I thought, why not write about writer’s block. Scribes that are writing short stories or fiction novels would have experienced this mind-numbing phenomenon, or perhaps when you’re taking a test and it says describe in your own words the definition of the word ‘supercalifragilistic.’

            I searched in Merriam Webster Dictionary for the definition of the word block, as it pertains to writer’s block. Not a builder’s block as in a square or rectangular piece of concrete, or a carpenter’s block as in a large piece of solid wood. Nor a road block as in a police check-stop, or a mechanic’s reference to an engine block. No writer’s block among those.

            Then there is the block and tackle used for hoisting heavy loads, which doesn’t catch the meaning either, nor does the description of a city block.

            I figured I’d better look at an intellectual definition. The first thing that leapt at me was the description of wooden blocks used to print books. Getting closer I thought, but that’s not it either. One must write the book first, but that can be difficult if suffering from writer’s block. But after the book is published, it may be sold at an auction, which means that it is put on the block. An auctioneer is not a blockhead, although some of them might be. Blockhead describes a person with his or her mind temporarily on hold or permanently shut down. Close, but not a definition of writer’s block either.

            In the bygone days, a scribe might have ended up insulting the royal family, consequently facing a beheading, meaning the writer’s head was on the block. Again, not the true definition of writer’s block.

            I surmised that writer’s block description might fall under Merriam Webster’s description of block as an obstacle. The first part of obstacle description, does not define what kind of obstacle it is that creates writer’s block.

            Reading on I found the definition, it was under psychological block. The definition of writer’s block includes “the interruption or cessation especially of a train of thought by competing thoughts or psychological suppression, a mental block, an emotional block.”

            Wow! Scary. That conjures up in my mind a scenario of two cars racing side by side down a road, trying unsuccessfully to beat the train at the crossing. They don’t see the train as the red warning lights aren’t working. Everything comes to a crashing halt; cars, train and all. Just like my mind: crash, bang, blocked. 

            In an effort to cure my writer’s block, I have decided to share with you some stories from Norway, told to me many years ago by my brother and my dad.

            My twin brother was a sheriff in Geilo, Norway, and he told many funny policing stories, this is one of them.

            A young man was arrested after a bar brawl that ended up in the streets, where he had knocked the other two brawlers unconscious. The next morning after he had sobered up, the young man was taken into the courtroom and placed in front of the judge. The judge peered over his glasses at the prisoner and asked:

            “Where do you live?”

            Prisoner: “Here and there.”

             Judge: “Where do you work?”

            Prisoner: “Here and there.”

            Judge: “What kind of work do you do?”

            Prisoner: “A little of this and a little of that.”

            The judge asked the bailiffs to escort the prisoner back to the holding cell. The young man turned and looked at the judge, asking:

            “Wait! When do I get out?”

            Judge: “Sooner or later.”

            My dad was active in the Norwegian underground during The Second World War. Gasoline was rationed in Norway during the war, so public buses were for the most part pulled by horses. The buses were also overloaded most of the time.

            An old man with a long grey beard and a back that was bent from arthritis entered the bus, but found that there were no seats available for him. A couple of young men that were standing in the middle aisle, helped the old man to get up on the top of the bus. There were a few crates secured topside as well as a coffin.

            The old man sat on one of the crates for a while, but then he got cold. He lifted the lid, and slid into the empty coffin to stay warm. He laid down in it and pulled the lid back in place to keep the wind out.

            A few stops later, a couple of German soldiers also entered the bus, and with no seats available they also clambered up on to the top of the bus, and sat down on the crates.

            The Germans were chatting about the war, and how the Norwegian resistance was creating havoc for the Germans, with danger lurking around every corner, and how they had to stay alert to stay alive. They would much prefer to be home in Germany with their wives and families.

            The old man was going to get off at the main depot, but being inside the dark coffin, he didn’t know where the bus was. He slid the coffin lid to the side, sat up bug-eyed with his grey beard flowing in the breeze, looked at the German soldiers and said, “are we there yet?”

            The two Germans got spooked and jumped off the bus, scared spitless!                   

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