Some silences are not empty — they are crowded with things we are not yet brave enough to say. This is the story of a feline philosopher, a blank page, and the terrifying, necessary act of writing badly, on purpose.
It’s me again— Anar Dana, your favourite feline philosopher, finally stepping out of the shadows of an unplanned writing hiatus. *insert some Lion King scene*
Before we dive in, let me pause to wish you a joyful and meaningful New Year. May 2025 bring you more courage to face your inner world, and fewer reasons to doom-scroll at midnight (though I suspect that’s asking too much).
Now, back to why we’re here. You might be wondering where I’ve been, and the answer is as simple as it is complex: I couldn’t write. Yes, even I— the feline philosopher extraordinaire— found myself staring at metaphorical blank pages, unable to conjure the words that usually come so effortlessly. And before you scoff and say, “But Anar, you’re just a cat,” let me remind you, that even cats have existential crises.
So let me take you through my one-day-a-bestselling-novel- “pawses to pages”!
Point 1.
My human often treats creativity as if it’s a faucet— turn it on, and voilà, inspiration flows. But writing, much like life itself, doesn’t work that way… (and you’d think a therapsst would know that already!)
Writing is a process of externalizing the internal, which means facing the tangled mess of feelings, memories, and unconscious conflicts that reside within. And here lies the rub: the very act of trying to articulate these internal states can sometimes silence them altogether.
Psychoanalyst Marion Milner (1937) once wrote (and your truly validates) about how creative block often masks deeper fears— of failure, of exposure, of being seen. What if my words don’t measure up? What if I reveal too much?
For the past few months, my human’s silence seemed like an escape from these questions, an attempt to avoid the vulnerability that writing demands. And being the empathetic creature I am, I decided to join her in solidarity— or laziness, depending on the day.
Point 2.
Here’s the thing about the unconscious: it doesn’t operate on deadlines. It prefers to simmer, offering up insights in its own time & thankfully, capitalism hasn’t contaminated it yet. Shocking, right?!
Writing, when done well, is a negotiation between the conscious mind’s desire for control and the unconscious’s need for free play. When my human and I stared at blank pages these past months, I suspect her conscious mind was trying to dominate— forcing ideas, demanding perfection, stifling the creative dance.
But creativity, much like me during my evening zoomies, can’t be tamed. It thrives in moments of spontaneity, when the mind is allowed to wander without judgment. So here’s my psychoanalytic take: Writer’s block isn’t a lack of effort; it’s a defense against unconscious truths struggling to emerge. Perhaps, we need to stop trying and let the mind play— like knocking over that precarious coffee cup, not because you need to, but because you can. Try it!
Point 3: Why I’m Back
Now, you’re probably wondering: Anar, what changed? Did I chase a profound epiphany, or did my human discover a magic cure? I hate to disappoint you, but the truth is less glamorous. It turns out the antidote to writer’s block isn’t some rare cosmic alignment; it’s giving yourself permission to write badly.
I stopped worrying about whether my words would sparkle and instead let them stumble onto the page like an overeager kitten chasing its tail. Sure, the first drafts were messy (and let’s face it, occasionally eww), but they were alive.
So here’s my unsolicited advice: Next time you find yourself tangled in the web of your own expectations, take a cue from me- write something imperfect. Write like no one’s watching, or better yet, like a cat watching you from the kitchen counter with mild disdain. And if that doesn’t work, grab a laser pointer and play— it won’t make you a writer, but it will make you laugh, and sometimes, that’s enough.
P.S. It’d be fair to say that I missed writing to you… did you dare not miss me back?!
P.P.S. You won’t have to wait too long for the next one, I promise!
