News: My thoughts are clouds I cannot fathom into pastries.

--1 June 2018--

Quote: Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest of hearts. --Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

The Fellowship

August 6, 2012

Frustration Sets In

I'm quite frustrated at the current moment. You see, I have all this inspiration for writing the tale of the century (ok maybe not quite)...I can see the characters and the snippets of battle scenes in my mind. I can see where I want the plot to go, how it will twist and turn, the characters that will rise and fall. I can see it all! But I cannot write it. Why? I haven't a clue. The words refuse to come out. Blame the muse, blame the writer's block, blame whatever you chose to blame...but I only blame myself.

*insert epic faceplant on the bytes of cyberspace*

Why can I not have the capability of putting my thoughts on paper? Well, I suppose I am doing something to that degree at the current moment. It's just that when I go to capture dialogue or description of a setting, I cannot :/ my brain jerks to a halt and refuses to let me. Woe is me.


I'm not even close to the suggestion captured by the image. I don't have hundreds of scraps of paper floating around my room. All I have are a few stick-it notes on my bare looking wall. One states that love conquers everything, another bemoans the fact that love is a difficult thing, the third is some scribbles from a twilight-moment dream, and the last two are conversations/snippets of what was running through my mind (with regards to characters). That is all.

Doesn't really help that everything on the entire planet is annoying me right now :/

Aah, but it does feel wonderous to vent it all out -- to throw away the drab, useless thoughts and make way for, hopefully, more useful ones.

I was briefly skimming through Abigail Hartman's blog, Scribbles and Ink Stains, and ran across her post All Your Might. I found it quite inspiring. She brings up Ecclesiastes 9:10 and then discusses the honour of doing something with all of one's might.
Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the realm of the dead, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom. 
Quite a drab verse. In fact, all of Ecclesiastes is forlorn and semi-depressing, which is why I prolong reading it until I'm absolutely certain I can handle it's truths. At the current moment (in which I should be outside, toiling underneath the unbearably hot glare of the sun) I feel as though this verse pertains quite well to my endeavours in writing. Of course, life is also the other answer (perhaps the more important one?) but I shall refrain from discussing that at the moment.

My hands find a pen or a pencil...they reach to the paper, smooth the soft skin out over a table. My mind searches its depths, longing to tell the story I hold before I pass into that nether-world, that realm of the dead. Why is it then, that my mind chokes every time I go to write? Perhaps I am not doing what I desire...with all my might.
Might (noun): Great and impressive power or strength 
 Yes, I am definitely not using all my might with regards to writing. I dally. The question is, will I be brave enough to fix how I err, now that I've confronted myself? Shall I tear down my heart's door and force my mind to bring forth a tale or shall I continue to wait until it longs to flow from my soul?

Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore. -- Andre Gide

Signed with nocturnal breathe,


1 comment:

  1. Starting something is always hard, but it gets easier once you start it. The book you are thinking of may sound great in your head, but what's the use if you never write it? Give yourself permission to write badly, and you'll find that, after a difficult time of it, the words will start flowing again. :)


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