Someone Stole My Writing Mojo!

Before I start, no, I did not lose my mojo again. Don’t panic; I’m back for good (I hope!).

Now, everyone calls their writing ability something different. Personally, I enjoy calling it mojo; it sounds silly. Recently, as I stated in previous entries, I lost my mojo. I’m pretty sure someone stole it, but that’s another story entirely. The point is that I was unable to write. Literally. I would get an idea for a story or poem or even for homework. I would sit down and start writing and after a few sentences it would just… stop. My ideas kept forming but hands wouldn’t type. It was like there was something stopping me from getting the ideas out. I’ve had a serial story on hold for almost two months, I have a huge list of requested short stories from friends that I haven’t done. My novels have all been severely neglected (though this really isn’t anything new). I even struggled with getting my D&D game going well because it was difficult pushing past the wall and allowing my creativity to shine.

Some would say it was just a form of writer’s block. I suppose I could agree; I wasn’t able to write anything. But it felt worse to me. I had all the ideas. The stories were forming in my head, including chapters for my novels. But when I would go to write them, I couldn’t. It was the worst feeling in the world. All this creativity in my head and I couldn’t get it out.

Sometimes it felt like my life force had been stolen from me. After I attempted to write and failed, I lost the energy to do just about anything. I read a lot, but it wasn’t doing much more than giving me ideas I couldn’t write down. My life was empty of the joy that writing brings. I enjoyed doing homework for classes because at least I was writing something (even if it was forced and far from my best work). To anyone who didn’t catch that, let me reiterate: I enjoyed doing homework. I feel like that was the low point. The point where I realized something was wrong and I needed to fix it.

Except I couldn’t fix it.

I tried all kinds of mind exercises to see if I could get the writing flow back. Nada. I tried telling stories to friends or reciting the poems that came to mind. Still couldn’t write them. Nothing was working. It terrified me. I honestly wondered if it was possible to have my writing mojo stolen because how could I ever be so careless as to lose something so precious to me?

At last, a few days ago while I was home sick, I sat down to browse the internet (as had become habit when I wanted to write but couldn’t) and before I knew what was going on, I had opened a document and was spewing the scene that had come to mind onto the pages before me. I got three pages typed up before I had to force myself to stop so I could go and eat dinner. Ever since, writing has been no problem.

I’m not sure where my mojo went (who stole it) or how it came back (why they gave it back to me), but I am more than glad it is back. I feel whole again, and like I can face anything that the world throws at me. I have a bounce in my step that was gone when my mojo was missing. And I don’t have to force out the painstakingly boring homework assignments; I can just toss them onto the page, add the citations needed and call it completed. And it looks good!

Life has been scary without my mojo. I rather felt like I wasn’t a whole person. Now that it is back, I have to figure out when to do creative writing; my homework piled up suddenly and I must have it completed much sooner than I would like. I do know, however, that it feels good to be whole again.

That’s what I’ve been going through (or at least some of it) lately. Has anyone else ever lost their ‘writing mojo’? Was it as scary for you as it was for me?

Life Hates My Blog (And a short story excerpt)

Hello! *Shy wave* I know, I was supposed to have this blog up an running again. Two weeks ago. It wasn’t my fault this time… fully. I sprained my hand, so typing became very difficult. That lasted about a week (though I still have my days). Then I chose to focus on another blog as a dear friend fights a life-threatening tumor in her stomach. I’ve been so focused on getting word out to the fandom she and I are both part of that every other part of my life has been neglected.

But she is stable, now, and life is getting a little better. I also have my writing mojo back, which is helpful.

Today’s post is one of many, this I swear. It’s Monday, so I am sharing an excerpt from a short story. The story is titled ‘Death Inside’ and it is based on a young man who makes a living as an assassin. His dear friend (and perhaps love interest) calls him, in danger, and he rushes to her rescue. The piece I am sharing is an interaction between the two characters. The rest of the story is marked ‘Mature’ for the guns, violence and language. If you would like to read the entire story, you will need an account on deviantART.

Without further ado, here is an excerpt from my short story ‘Death Inside’:

 

Without needing a light, I crouched in the darkness and reached ahead of me, feeling the panel of wall behind the few buckets, mops and vacuum. At last my finger traced over the oh so subtle protruding knot. I pressed it. A square of light lit the closet, and I quickly and quietly maneuvered around the cleaning supplies and ducked into the opening in the wall. I slid my palm along the trigger that closed the panel as I continued down the small passageway I had entered into.

As I reached the last few feet of the passage, I paused, listening to any sounds beyond. I heard nothing, but that didn’t have to mean that Allie wasn’t there. She was quite skilled at keeping quiet in circumstances such as this. I cleared my throat softly and tapped lightly on the wall of the panel three times. I heard a release of breath and shuffling ahead of me.

“Jaden, quickly.” She hissed. I crawled the rest of the way through the passage and entered into a small room lined with shelves. Every shelf was loaded with either some sort of canned food, bottled drink or, not surprisingly, various types of weapons. The single cot against the far wall was empty, but had clearly had someone sitting on it from the indent I could see still slowly working its way out of the material. I glanced to my left to find a pair of disturbingly light gray eyes watching me. I sighed with relief and quickly engulfed Allie in a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry,” I said softly against her hair. The blond was starting to grow out and reveal her dark brown roots. I kissed the roots and then pushed her gently back at arms length. She gave me a lopsided smile.

“Jaden, I’m fine. I just can’t take them on my own.” She said softly. I shrugged, knowing the truth but having to have seen it for myself.

“We’ll have to get out of here, soon.” I said quietly, crossing the room to inspect the weapons she had scattered about.

“They won’t find us, and we will know when they leave. Geare will go to your place to look for me.” I met her knowing gaze. “I guess you were right about hiding it elsewhere.”

“When will you learn that I am always right?” I wondered before turning back to the weapons shelf.

“It’s debatable,” she said quietly and I could feel those near-white eyes watching me closely. “You told me they wouldn’t come after me.”

 

Feet

As promised, here is my Monday post! This is a poem I wrote not too long ago. It’s a mix of humor and emotion.

 

I’m so sick of feet.

I’ve always wondered why

I have an aversion to feet;

Not the smell, or shape.

Looking at them

doesn’t bother me.

But if they touch me?

It’s like a spider walked

across my exposed flesh.

I jump, shudder.

I might even gag,

a little.

It’s a response

I never understood.

Until now.

So tread lightly;

I’m done being

a doormat.

 

I may not have a post for tomorrow (Tuesday) but I will for Wednesday. I injured my hand this weekend, so typing is difficult. But short posts I can manage. Tuesday posts are rarely short, however, so I believe I will skip it. Have a wonderful Monday night!

Slacking and Life

I’m really bad at this whole blogging thing…

So my life, directly after saying I was going to start posting daily again, became a nightmare! I was so busy and stressed and overwhelmed. I also, about the time things went nuts on me, lost my writing mojo. In other words, very little (if any) writing has been happening. I pretty much failed my first class since September. And I had too many personal problems happen all at once.

But all of that is over with… well, most of it.

I still don’t really have my writing mojo back. But I recognized I was letting my responsibility to my readers fail and that that wasn’t fair. My last blog entry was February 19th, which is not really okay with me. So, I’ve decided, that starting Monday I will be posting daily again NO MATTER WHAT. I’m sick of letting my lack of writing mojo dictate my life. If it won’t come back to me on its own, I’ll make it come back.

I am a writer, and I will write.

 

So, keep an eye out for daily posts starting Monday, March 5th. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

Sunday! …What to do?

Sorry I didn’t post yesterday! I’m visiting my mum, so getting my usual daily routine completed is difficult. I have a few minutes before I head  out to breakfast with the family, though, so I figured I’d do a mini-post.

 

Starting either tomorrow or Tuesday I’m going to crack down on getting my daily posts up. Whether this means sitting down and typing up a bunch of posts and setting them on a schedule so I don’t forget anymore or what, I will be forcing myself to post as close to daily as I can get. There are a  few days I may not end up with posts for, but we’ll see what happens.

So! Start looking for daily posts from me again (I’m really bad at this game, huh?) starting tomorrow or Tuesday!

 

Have a wonderful Sunday, everyone!

Fast Fiction Friday

My last post detailed how my brain was forcing me away from writing lately. It really hasn’t changed that much, but I decided that I can’t let myself fall into a pit of despair (Aka life without writing). So I am going to be forcing out daily posts until they decide to cooperate again.

Today, being Friday, is obviously TripleF. Following is my attempt to give you something interesting to read.

 

Your eyes crack open at the sound of a door closing. Stretching, you slowly drag yourself out of the relaxed state you’ve been in for hours and climb to your feet. You tread lightly into the next room only to see your housemate shedding her winter garb and tossing it to the floor. Her jacket makes a loud ‘thud’ as it hits the carpet. You hesitate, then decide to greet her.

Her eyes light up as she sees you. Her greeting is kind, loving even, and you bask in it as you return the affection. Her hand lightly brushes against you and you sigh inwardly at her touch. She smiles once more at you before turning her attention to the refrigerator. She continues talking to you, but you hear nothing. You are just happy to see she is home and safe.

At last, your housemate sinks into the cushions of the couch and sighs with what might be frustration, but you think it is more likely relief. You sit beside her and rest your head against her shoulder, hoping she knows that, without you saying it, you know she needs the attention. Before long she sighs again and her hand finds your head. She scratches behind your ears and you can’t resist the purr that begins to flow from you. This, you think to yourself, is a wonderful existence.

 

 

Last post, I asked for ideas/suggestions on what to do on Sunday posts aside from Six Sentence Sunday. I haven’t received any responses yet so those would be greatly welcomed! Also, please bear with my awful posts for a bit; as I said, I am forcing them out until they decide to play nicely again. And, as always:

 

I ask that if you join me for Fast Fiction Fridays, you share with me. In the comment section, post the link to wherever your piece of writing can be found(deviantART, writing forums, your own blog, etc.) If you do not have anywhere online to post the writing, you are welcome to either use the comment section to place your story, or email me at: FantasieAutor@gmail.com with either an attachment or the story as the body of the email.

Sunday Blues

I don’t have a Six to post today. I have a 5page essay due for my History class tomorrow that I haven’t even touched yet… whoops.

I’m thinking about mixing things up a bit on Sundays; I’m getting low on Six Sentence Sunday posts, and sometimes I just don’t feel like doing any. So I’m thinking I will do those every once in a while and do something else on Sundays instead. I’m just not sure what to do. Tuesday and Saturday are my writing tips and pointers and other various writing related posts that are marginally helpful (also known as Wild Card Days). I’d rather not have three of those in a week. Monday is an excerpt or poem (which may soon become a way to feature other artists as I am running low on my own stuff), Wednesday is writing prompts, Thursday is lists of 13 and Friday is Fast Fiction. What other options do I have?

 

What would you, my readers, like to see on Sundays? Something new, that I haven’t touched on or have only briefly touched on, maybe? Or I could do a serial story that I post on (most) Sundays. I could also make Sunday a “This is what is going on in my life right now” kind of post. I really have no idea what to do. Leave me a comment and let me know what you would like to see!

Repulsed

Writing, for most writers, is a part of the being. A part of the soul. There is no removing writing from a writer’s life because it is part of who they are. Every experience in a day can trigger some of the best stories, poems or novel ideas. We may choose to use them or push them aside into that folder in our mind we have labeled “For later use”.  There is very little that doesn’t remind us of our passion.

But sometimes we want nothing to do with it.

When nothing goes right. When everything we’re working on has slammed the brakes on and refuses to ease up on them even just a little bit. We feel trapped at first, afraid of what that might mean. Then we get angry. ‘How dare that story put the breaks on! I was just getting into the flow of it!’ After the anger subsides, we slowly drift into a numbness; part of our daily life is gone for a little while. What do we do now? Then, by the time a deadline rolls around and we realize we need to get to work on the writing no matter how much it fights… we’re suddenly repulsed by the very thought of working on it.

We will procrastinate at the worst times, we writers. It doesn’t matter that we’ve got a novel to submit to our editor in a week; that trash can is full, that table needs to be washed and suddenly we have a toothbrush we don’t need anymore so let’s start washing the entire house using only that. If someone even mentions writing, we wince and pretend we didn’t hear them because we have absolutely no want to get near the writing. We are repulsed by the thought of work, of writing. Everything else that we’ve been putting off for months gets done in a matter of a week. Then, on the day before and the day of our deadline, we force ourselves to sit down and write. And we feel like it is the worst thing we’ve ever produced. As soon as we finish, we go back to avoiding it. We read books, we clean, we spend time with friends and family we will usually go out of our way to avoid using the excuse that we have writing to do.

Why does this happen?

Lately, I’ve been avoiding all types of writing possible. Homework (I get it done hours before it is due), serial stories (they’re supposed to be posted Monday/Tuesday. Guess when I write/finish them?), blog entries (see those big gaps in the week with no posts??). I don’t really know why, but the very thought of any type of writing is repulsive to me. I’m only writing this entry because I felt bad that I’ve been neglecting this so much. I’ve tried forcing other entries, but they just didn’t want to be written. I’m sure this will pass soon, and when it does I will begin posting daily once again. But please bear with my sporadic posts until I am no longer repulsed by the very thought of writing.

Starting Things Out

Welcome to Writing Prompt Wednesday! Sorry for the short hiatus I took. Life is a little stressful these days. Mini-hiatuses may occur, but  I won’t be taking any extensive breaks. The longest I could be gone during a break is a week. If it will be more, I will warn you. More than likely it will be less, though.

Now, let’s get on with the prompt, shall we?

 

Start your story out with this sentence:

Her laughter broke the silence.

 

 

I ask that, if anyone chooses to use these prompts, they share them with me. In the comment section, post the link to wherever your piece of writing can be found(deviantART, writing forums, your own blog, etc.) If you do not have anywhere online to post the writing, you are welcome to either use the comment section to place your story, or email me at: FantasieAutor@gmail.com with either an attachment or the story as the body of the email.

Fast Fiction Friday

Welcome to Fast Fiction Friday! Trying something different this week; hope you like it!

 

 

Step One

Her hands shook as she lit the match. The strike and hiss was loud in the darkness. She hesitated long enough for the flame to reach her fingertips, then tosses the burning match onto the pile at her feet. It burst into flame with a ‘whoosh’ that was surely audible for miles around. She backed away a few steps and watched it burn into nothing.

 Step Two

He couldn’t know about what she had done. It would ruin everything. She had to hold it all inside. It was bad enough that she’d told the last guy; but he wouldn’t be telling anyone. She shivered in the cold night, the fire long since burnt out, and turned her back on the secret she had to keep.

 Step Three

He was everything to her. Her light. She couldn’t let him go, no matter how hard it seemed sometimes. She felt different with him; alive, full, real. He didn’t understand, but he might someday. She just had to keep him close until then.

She reached the door to her apartment and slid the key into the lock. It turned with ease, the ‘click’ over-loud in the silent night. Once inside, she shut the door and crept to her room. She shed her stinking, smoke-filled clothing and slid in between the cool, clean sheets of her bed. They were ice against her feverish body. Before falling asleep, she pulled the matches from the pocket of her jeans and slid them under her mattress.

The knife under her pillow was like a smoking gun, but she’d done well to clean it of the evidence of her crime. At least the last one would know better by now. And the new one, her light in the darkness, could remain close to her.

 

 

**Today’s Triple F is based off a song by the band Hotspur. The song is called ‘You Should Know Better By Now’.

I ask that if you join me for Fast Fiction Fridays, you share with me. In the comment section, post the link to wherever your piece of writing can be found(deviantART, writing forums, your own blog, etc.) If you do not have anywhere online to post the writing, you are welcome to either use the comment section to place your story, or email me at: FantasieAutor@gmail.com with either an attachment or the story as the body of the email.