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bridezilla in training

Bride Elect (Evolution of a Bridezilla)


Chapter Twenty-Five—Writer’s Block


It might have been the unresolved need to go tool shopping, or residual overwhelm from all the pre-wedding/gift foisting celebrations, but I was suffering from writer’s block. Palucid and I had agreed to write our own vows. I tried many times over a course of nine months, and couldn’t come up with anything good. Everything I wrote sounded redundant, stilted and a little flat. I was having trouble believing that writing poetry used to be one of my hobbies.


When we first started talking about it, I was anticipating Palucid resisting the whole “self-composed” vow thing. He has never been one to be all poetic and wordy—of the two of us, I was the word-nerd. I decided that self-composed vows were no big deal—especially if it made the groom feel frustrated. So, when I brought up the topic I was fully prepared to accept his protests and move on. I nearly fell off of my computer chair when Palucid announced he thought we should compose our own vows.


With a shocked relief, I agreed with Palucid, and foolishly convinced myself that writing my own wedding vows would be no big deal. I had faced greater writing challenges before—right? After all, I had successfully completed not one, but two WriMo challenges. Additionally, in my final year in university, it was nothing for me to write three, or even four, ten-page essays per week. How tough could a few lines of vows be?


I tried many different tried and true methods to get my writing mojo on. First, I went through some of our initial email correspondence. It had been quite a while since I revisited those emails. They were so honest, and heartfelt. My Palucid was no slouch when it came to speaking his heart. The emails weren’t very poetic, but the heroic honesty was tremendously touching. Sadly, the only thing reading those emails did was make me cry—damn it, I needed to tool shop!


Next, I went to my old stand-by inspiration—my “other boyfriend” David Bowie. David Bowie has never really ever made a name for himself as a love balladeer. Sure, some of his songs were sensuous, and that voice in all of its sonorous glory had a way of really getting to me. In my Bowie archives, I dug up all the stuff that either really made me pensive, or had Mr. Bowie discussing his views on marriage. I thought for sure, as in all times past, there would be some lyric, phrase, or image that would get my writer’s motor running. Instead, I got very nostalgic. I reminisced about the last time Bowie was in Winnipeg—I rushed the stage and got close enough to see his eyes in all their asymmetrical awesomeness. That was nearly ten years ago. The realization of the passage of time made me a little sad, and I started to tear up. Seriously— I really needed to buy a wrench or something—and soon!


Then, I thought perhaps combining the re-reading of our old emails while listening to David Bowie wax poetic on love, and marriage (not to mention “red shoes”, dancing the blues, and “God and man”) would get my writer’s mojo going. It was worth a try, and it wasn’t like people were beating down my door begging me to go tool shopping or anything. So, one Sunday morning while Palucid was out at his martial arts class, I settled in and resolved myself to write—or rewrite—my wedding vows. The combination of Bowie’s music and my memories inspired by those emails got me into that kind of mood I used to have when I was writing poetry. I knew I was on to something with this combination of stimuli. I misted up a little bit as I reread the emails, but the genre of Bowie music I selected this day did not stir up any nostalgia in me. Instead the music seemed to fortify me emotionally, and I managed to reread those emails without becoming a blubbering little girl.


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