The words have poured out
the pen hardly able to keep up.
There is a story waiting to be finished
parts of this tale are already laid down
messy hand writing on lined pages
The girl in the story is about to be evicted
she is waiting for her fate to be written
Something stops me
It’s not sadness
It’s not pain
It’s not happiness
It’s an invisible wall that I stand in front of
I just stare
I have ideas
I have a desire
Yet I still stand behind that invisible wall
No impulse to move, not forwards, nor back.
I have tried to write a few different posts for this week. However each time I get as far as the first sentence before stopping. As what I have written does not feel right.
I never really understood what writers block was. Although for me having a creative block is no big deal.
I don’t have a book deal or an editor on my back to worry about. However it is frustrating all the same.
I am doing all the write (a freudian slip!!…true story) things. I am spending time in nature. I am being very kind to myself. I am taking long baths. I am trying other things like crotchet or baking orange and date cakes. I am reading and allowing myself to be carried away by the imaginations of small children. I am watching “Black is the new Orange” on Netflix. I am learning to meditate.
I am talking more than I have ever done in my entire life. I am drinking wine, peppermint tea and eating chocolate. I have been soaking up lots of puppy love from our beautiful Keplie pup.
Perhaps that is just it, I am enjoying myself too much. Maybe I really do not want to retreat into my book with the blank lines.
Its a funny thing a brain block. I need to just go with it and listen to my body and mind. Sometimes you gotta be in the moment rather than be creating a fictional one.
On that note perhaps I will share the last six sentences of the story I have been trying to write. It might inspire me, or it might inspire you.
“Stella slowly creeps out their doorway. She knows this time of day is perfect for escape. Everyone else is either still asleep or in too much of a drunken drugged stupor to know which way is up. She does not look back. She pulls her fur lined hood up and pushes her cold hands into her coat pockets. Stella looks ahead and walks for her life”.
I need to help Stella to keep walking, I need to empower her to walk right on to her new life.
I have created her and now she is stuck in limbo.