ArcaMax

Ah, writer's block -- the invisible brick wall that every writer inevitably faceplants into. As a millennial, I've waded through all the unprecedented events, but trying to parse them to share weekly is hard. The cursor is tapping its little pixelated foot, impatiently waiting for me to birth a sentence worthy of the digital page. I've never felt so judged by technology since my Tamagotchi died back in 1999.

Millennials are a unique breed when grappling with creative stagnation. We've grown up in the twilight zone. We've swung from dial-up internet to high-speed Wi-Fi, from AOL chat rooms to TikTok lives. We've seen it a lot, probably more than we should. We've experienced the thrill of Napster's illegal music downloads (sorry, Metallica) and the crushing disappointment of buffering 30-second videos. It's a wonder we have the mental bandwidth left to form coherent thoughts, let alone write them down.

It's not like we don't have enough on our plates. We're juggling jobs, side hustles, social media profiles, young children, elderly parents, and the existential dread of climate change and the next election. Did I mention the avocado toast? God forbid we forget about avocado toast. How could we possibly write when we're busy photographing our breakfast? Those hashtags aren't going to write themselves. #Blessed #Foodie #WriterProblems.

And then there's the pressure. Oh, the pressure. To be witty, insightful, and relevant all at once. To capture the essence of our generation in a way that will be both nostalgic and fresh. To convey the angst of our student loan debts while celebrating the irony of using a $5 latte to drown our financial sorrows. We're expected to churn out viral content faster than you can say, "New phone, who dis?"

Let's not forget the distractions. We millennials are nothing if not masters of procrastination. The internet is a click away, beckoning us with its siren call. One minute, you're researching a clever metaphor. The next, you're three hours deep into a YouTube rabbit hole about the dark side of the 90s boy bands. Writing? What writing? I'm too busy wondering if the Backstreet Boys really were back, alright.

And speaking of distractions, can we talk about notifications? I've got my phone, smartwatch, children, and laptop competing for my attention. Every ding, buzz, and flash feels like a personal affront to my concentration. It's a miracle I can string two sentences together without checking my email or text messages or debating if the silence from the children is too loud. Is it writer's block or just a thousand tiny interruptions conspiring against my creative flow? You tell me.

However, the real culprit here is our millennial tendency towards perfectionism. We've been told our whole lives that we're special snowflakes capable of greatness. So when the words don't come, it feels like a personal failure. We berate ourselves, convinced everyone else is effortlessly churning out Pulitzer-worthy prose.

So here I sit, staring at my screen, trying to summon the muse. But maybe, just maybe, writer's block is a reminder to take a step back, let go of the pressure, distractions, and need for perfection, and embrace the messy, imperfect process of creation. After all, we millennials are nothing if not adaptable. I survived Y2K, after all, even if my Tamagotchi didn't.

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Cassie McClure is a writer, millennial, and unapologetic fan of the Oxford comma. She can be contacted at cassie@mcclurepublications.com. To find out more about Cassie McClure and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

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