The lamp cast dim shadows in the small living room. Combined with your laptop’s glaring white light, there’s just enough for you to see the old furniture and wooden floors around you… And of course, your cat. Wouldn’t want to step on her tail again, poor thing just wants a petting. Then again, the rumbling thunder and constant punches of rain probably scared her off for the night, although it’s since quieted down by now. The only sounds you hear are the humming of the fridge in the kitchen, the ticking of a clock just upstairs, and the clicking of your hands on the keyboard.
~Earlier~
It’s been awhile since you’ve last written something. Your Muse just hasn’t been around, maybe because you’ve chased them off with extroverted duties such as getting a job. However, it seems like, even though you’ve gotten a call back for a retail position, they just haven’t been whispering to you for any good length of time.
It’s now almost 10 PM. Everyone has gone to bed and you’re usually clicking on the keyboard, reading, or scratching your tablet to doodle. But just like the past few nights, you’re clicking on random sites on the web, searching up SOMETHING for entertainment, or better yet, inspiration.
Sure, you get ideas and sometimes even remember to write them down… And yet you find the words slipping through your fingers like grains of sand through an hour glass. There’s just nothing to build off of them, that metaphorical sand dune spilling away in the voidy recesses of your imagination.
“And then what?” A question slinks out, your own and yet not.
“I… Don’t know.” You whisper. Seriously, what can you build off of that?
“Hm.” Grunts the Muse and the image of a blond, three-eyed elf twirling a glowing pen in thought floats around in your mind. “Sand… The beach or desert… And time…” The bottom painted eyes open to reveal dark sockets. “Do you feel rushed?”
“We both know the answer.” You breathe out, the only (audible) voice in the room. “First the exams, then the jobs, and trying to publish stuff to make a living on our own. But we’re done most of that. I wanna write now.” Or maybe go to bed early for once… Yeah, right.
“And what do you want to write? But that is the problem.”
“That’s why you help, after all.”
“Well, we have dialect going on.” You picture them smirking with one raised eyebrow. “But you don’t have your ending planned out. We can’t always write something without an idea of where it’s going to go and a place to stop. The thought of just writing on and on with no conclusion planned…”
“That’s madness.”
“Like talking to yourself? And responding?”
“We both know that’s a wive’s tale.” You’ve already read a bunch of quotes of writers being ‘functionally mad’ to an extent, anyway. In fact, it’s more psychologically typical than society likes to think. Plus, talking and walking helps: how else can you follow your ideas if you don’t walk with them?
“Maybe you should get off your ass and start pacing, then.” They chuckle, sticking out their silver – or grey – tongue.
You feel slight pressure around your teeth and jaw. Is it possible to get annoyed with a side of yourself, or is that crossing some ‘boundary of madness’ line?
“Imagine if there was, like with Psycho-Pass.”
… Yeah, that sounds interesting. You open a document on word – your idea journal – and type it in. Now, if you could just get into the habit of bringing a journal around…
Sitting back in your chair – and ignoring the rising numbing of your arse – you stare at the words and that little blinking horizontal line, letting words or pictures stream into your consciousness.
Boundary of Madness… Damn it, all you can think of is Alice references.
“Overplayed. We’ve done that before, anyway.” You nod at that thought, rubbing your stiffening bottom eyelids. Patiently, you stare a little longer at the screen, spinning your index finger.
…
Nope. Nothing else.
“You know, maybe the ‘block’ isn’t so much based on one’s lack of inspiration as it is one’s lack of discipline.” They run a pale hand through their blond bangs, out of their Third Eye tattoo’s line of sight.
“If I don’t want to write, then what’s the point?”
“You do want to write.” Muse sighs. “I would’ve died otherwise.”
You want to write, not repeatedly scroll through random websites, checking for possible updates for days on end.
“I want to end this with me getting an idea and starting a story.” You keep your voice quiet, but firm. It just dings on you now that the song you played has since ended. “hu.” You breathe out. Jeez, no wonder some inspiration is lacking. You’ve got no beat to type to, no musical mood to grab your heartstrings, and no lyrics to echo into the void, a great aid with a story’s conflict. You adjust your position to lean a little more forward (you know, to numb another part of your behind).
“Remember, keep the editing to a minimum ‘til after we get to the end. Let’s just entertain ourselves first, like always.”
Ass hurting a bit less, Muse and you working together tonight, good music on… Almost everything is set. You can practically see the eyeless elf grinning and fingering their glowing pen in anticipation. You open your Idea Journal and scan through it, then the ‘Inspiration’ and ‘Favourite’ tags on your blog. You stop at a prompt on Motivation, the Muse’s pen brightening up.
“But how to start it..?”
“You remember our own little rule: when in doubt, start with a description. Look around, we’ve haven’t written about our own living room, yet.”
You certainly haven’t done that before. The blond figment of your imagination let’s their pen glide in the air, producing pictures, diction choices, and dialogue suggestions that float around your vision. Letting the song end, you let your eyes and ears scan the house and begin to type:
The lamp cast dim shadows in the small living room…
~~~522Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC5wtPYziE7
At first I just thought to write out what I do, but then it turned into a drabble of me getting out of a Block, based on occasions where it's happened and I'm having trouble getting back into writing.
In summary, some of the things I do:
Snark Converse with my Writing Muse. Sometimes just talking and explaining ideas to myself or others is great way for me to come up with character psychology or a conflict. Be warned: when doing this in public places, expect to get stared at.522Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0HTlRhcRLU
Have an ending planned out. It just works for me. If I know where I want the story to end up, it allows me to tie as much as I can in, with as few plot holes as I can do.
Make it a habit. Inspiration is important, but acquiring a discipline and free time towards writing can keep one from losing their story. Writing with a minimum word count helps, too, because it keeps on from adding in too much and letting the story get out of control.
Carry an Idea Journal. A joke you heard, a quote, etc. That way, if you have an idea, write it down and go back to it when you feel the Block coming.
Write about anything, whatever entertains you, challenges you, or grabs your attention! Especially something that excites the senses, like music or a picture.522Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1OVXa05Kwc
Do prompts, something to help with your writing. For me, that's descriptions, because I need to make sure that I'm putting them in my writing. If I don't think about it, I don't do it.
Also, don't worry about editing too much. Write out what you want. When you can't think of anything more, then do the editing. Get the idea out first, then polish it up.
That's it for now. Critiques are appreciated - Monos DOA
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