Forging ahead with fictional endeavours: ~ Write a life on a page and hurry not to its grave; abhor not the coming age, for eternal is the next page. ~ Read what you will, I hope you will enjoy reading as much as I do writing.

Coming up dry

Okay so a mini-rant about writer block turned poetic… I should get writers block more often

I have not had a case of writer’s block this bad in ages. I several good prompts I want to work with but nothing’s coming to me. It’s frustrating because I am actually in the mood to write. I am looking photo prompts and I can feel the ideas stirring. However, they lie tantalizingly out of my reach. I feel as though I’m grasping sand.

I could be working on an original flash fic. Instead I’m browsing blogs for writers tip. This is an excellent use of my time. But I want to write.

I have not made progress on my current novel because of lack of focus.  Instead I’m watching Dr. Who fanfiction and getting into ambivalent states about the quality. Filming good; but script writing a mess. But can I talk? Can I sqeeze out text! I want to WRITE!

I could be outlining future projects, planning blog posts or just tinkering with old ones. Instead I wind up flicking through manga’s, well-read novels or netflix. I can lay out my canonical fan-drivel but I dare not touch the pen. It’s not my world; my world lies behind an oozing fog, mocking, taunting, cajoling me into the bottomless pit. I. Want. To. Write!

I seize my muse, frustrated and malcontent. My own impotence irrelevant. My tapestry lies torn asunder; years of work thrown in blunder.  Lies woven through the thread, skill wrought in this head deemed unworthy in my eyes. Beauty destroyed, shine ignored; creativity deplored. Still the muse will not be ignored. Fresh start lies ahead.

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Comments on: "Coming up dry" (3)

  1. I like that after all the frustration you so aptly describe, you end on a hopeful note 🙂

    • Thanks. I like to practice free verse when I’m creatively stuck. I didn’t intent for this to turn into a creative piece. But by the time I got to the end the shift towards hopeful felt natural because I’d already started to words flowing fluidy by the second paragraph. By the last they were forging on ahead with a will of their own.

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