Blockhead #1 - Flashlight

Blockhead is a ongoing self-diagnosing thread about my mental state as it interferes with my creative process. Whether for good or bad, this external dialogue allows me to reevaluate myself in hopes to perhaps not cure my issue, but to come to terms with it.

This chapter examines my neediness of others.

I have a block in my head.

I see myself as more of a conceptual writer than someone you can actually tell a story worth reading. I have loads of ideas, musings, and directions but simply no focus. At least not without some kind of 3^rd party opinion. Which sounds absolutely ridiculous. I shouldn't need approval to write whatever I want. I'm a grown goddamn man. I believe the issue is that I learned the art story-telling throughout my childhood from comedians and professional wrestling.

A comedian is a writer. Constantly creating material to hone on stage in front of audiences across various venues in different regions. Some material changes over time, some of it gets left in the margins of a long lost notebook, and the rest (hopefully) becomes the best joke it can be by the time you make your stand up special.

A wrestler is the same thing except in their case; it's utilizing the realm of physicality to tell their story. Constantly preforming to hone your skills in a ring, in front of audiences across various venues in different regions. Some maneuvers will change with each opponent, some promos on the mic won't be your best sell, and your gimmick (hopefully) will become the thing that makes your kind circus act compelling enough to sell tickets.

They both create and get feedback almost simultaneously. Each gauge their audience, making adjustments, and grow in the moment. As a writer in a different medium, this type of feedback is both desired and haunting. It's the want of instant gratification and the fear of disappointment. If you're thinking, “why not have a friend give you constructive criticism during the different phases of your work?” Oh but I have and it's like living in between a pat on the back for coming up with a cool idea and that annoyance of someone who points out your grammatical errors before giving a fuck about the work that you spent so much time on.

So the easiest way to write and get in-depth feedback without all the useless baggage that comes with editing and self-reliance; is running a role-playing game like Dungeons & Dragons. This is where I, the Game Master (GM), ran a story while everyone else lives and plays in it. All the characters, places, interactions, and background lore is uniquely mine. A lot of my material is prepared and even more is created through improvisation. I ran a game called "Gladium Fantasy" for nearly 103 hours across most Monday nights for 9 months. This is not an accomplishment. Most games surprisingly last longer than that, spanning years. But it was in this instance, that this type of community based storytelling fueled me to create more projects on the side. Little did I know what profound effect it had on me when I wrapped up my last session.

As tradition with our group; with one game ending, another begins with someone else yielding the Game Master's responsibilities which in turn makes me a player. A part of the reason I wanted to switch off was because I needed a break. I like my worlds dark and it got to me on an emotional level. Secondly, I wanted to work on other projects... it's been 5 weeks since I wrapped up Gladium Fantasy and here I am. Writing this.

I am... a living conundrum of self-loathing and self-righteousness that doesn't understand the full weight of either of those things and how they really effect my everyday life. I write because I love creating worlds and therein lies my issue. I resort to creation because the ending is far too frightening. I feed off collaboration because I can't find the ending without someone else there holding the flashlight. 

I am blockhead.