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The deepest and eternal nature of man, upon whose evocation in his hearers the poet is accustomed to rely, lies in those impulses of the mind which have their roots in a childhood that has since become prehistoric.
Poets tend to think of themselves as stars because their deepest desire is to be an influence, rather than be influenced, but even in the strongest, whose desire is accomplished, the anxiety of having been formed by influence still persists.
Freud is alluding to Homer in the passage above, as he does a number of times in The Interpretation of Dreams. Using scenes from The Odyssey and examples of his own anxiety dreams, Freud is analyzing “feelings of being inhibited, of being glued to the spot, of not being able to get something done” (p. 238), the kind of anxiety that is also the subject of this paper, which explores an aspect of scholarly writing and publishing that paralyzes many authors. Here is what they say about their struggles to write under the influence of intellectual predecessors as well as of the ghosts of personal and familial histories: “It's all been said before.” “I'm sure someone has already written about this.” “I have an idea, but I'm not even sure where I learned it.” “How do I get started on a list of references?” “Who am I to be writing about_____?” “Who wants to hear from me?” It sometimes seems to me—as a college professor of writing and literature, a psychoanalytic scholar, and a clinician who specializes in writing impasses—that I spend my entire day listening to this catalogue of crippling concerns and anxieties.
Because writers come to me for help not when their writing is going well, but when it isn't, they have a lot to teach