The first step is recognition

Ilia Uy is a Communication Arts graduate from University of the Philippines, Los Baños, and is now currently working in the Public Relations industry. She writes for Words From the Land of Juan every week

We are terrible bloggers. Pardon us for the month-long silence. On my part, I couldn’t bring myself to post anything because I would have hated what I wrote. Posting something for the sake of having something up on the site is shortchanging me and the few people who actually take time read the stuff we write.

Anyhow, here I am, more permanently I hope. I hate to admit it – but I’m stuck in a writing rut. The only thing that I can compare this writing phase to is tennis. Even I find that weird. What does hitting a ball within a court 78 feet long and 27 feet wide got to do with writing?

It turns out – a lot. At least in the mind of a tennis fan like me.

As comparisons go, the act and craft of writing can be placed side by side with virtually anything – as long as you can provide supporting evidence. Since I have become an avid tennis fan over the past year, let me attempt to draw out the parallels between the said sport and writing.

Tennis is very much an individual sport. Yes, you have coaches, trainers, and the whole entourage. But when you’re actually out there on the court, you’re on your own. Only you can serve, volley, and run down every ball. Just like a writer is the only one who can actually breathe life to her own story – nobody can do it for her.

In tennis, you do not only battle an opponent but you also wage a mental war within yourself. Possibly more than any sport, mental strength and belief are keys to succeeding in tennis. As soon as you step on court, you must believe you can win no matter who is on the other side of the net, otherwise, it’s as good as over.

Such is also true in writing. The moment I put pen to paper – or as more commonly today, finger to keypad – I must believe that I have something to say, that I can say it the way I want it to be said, and that I can finish what I have to say. I continuously fight against my own standards, my perceived reaction from potential readers, and my own limitations: whether it be of vocabulary, style, or experience.

A tennis player goes through peaks and slumps in his/her career. It is inevitable, much like the drought and flourishing seasons of a writer. When slumps arrive and threaten to stay, it is seldom because the player lacks talent – most often, it is the result of trashed confidence. After a bad loss, a resurging injury, you begin to doubt whether you really had it in you to become a champion. In those moments of testing, it’s up to you to put those questions to rest.

I am in a slump. A two-year slump to be exact. And honestly, my confidence as a writer has taken such a trashing that I don’t even know how to begin rebuilding it. It all began when I graduated and entered the working force, writing for a living. I got so used to writing stories for others that I forgot how to write mine.

In two years, I have written exactly six poems (not my strongest suit, believe me) and one measly story. It’s been so long since I actually finished a piece that I led myself to believe that I possibly no longer have it in me to produce one. All I have are ideas that lie rotting. I’m scared to start something because I don’t know if I can go through with it.

It’s terrifying that I physically have to force myself to write when the act of stringing words together used to be my lifeblood. Even when I wasn’t writing stories, I was a prolific journal writer. Now, even blogging – which I used to do for fun – feels like a duty.

All the tennis players I know (not personally, of course) who’ve gone through a slump all say that you have to take it one match at a time. Go out there and tough it out – win or lose. And that’s how I’m gonna beat this thing, one word, one paragraph, one page at a time.

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