The most creative writers block

 “It took me fifteen years to discover that I had no talent for writing, but I couldn't give it up because by that time, I was too famous.”

-Robert Benchley

 

 

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“She dreamed of this place every night for almost a week now, calling out to her and haunting her to come visit, to come see her days of happiness and what-…..”

 

I paused and looked up from my notebook. “And what?” I asked myself.

 

“What-… what-… what….” I tapped my pen on the pale paper until it made those blotchy ink spots.Ugh. I looked up and closed my eyes, “Don’t tell me…….” I said to myself and stopped to open them again, bringing the darkly lit room back into focus. “I can’t get it now……”

 

It was a sunny day outside. And my room looked like it was the dead of the night. Realizing my mistake I got up from my chair and pushed aside thick velvety curtains, bringing glorious sun rays into the room. And as its warmth enveloped me, I looked out the window and when not a single line popped up in my head. That’s when I confirmed it…

 

I had the dreaded writers block.

 

If you are a writer from the heart then you should know that, ‘writers block’ is the dirtiest word in your dictionary (okay, make that two words). All the witty statements and beautiful lines never get to face paper, because as soon as you get them, they get shut in that stupid brain.

 

Don’t you get annoyed? When you’re at the height of your creativity and your brain just gives up on you? I sure did.

 

I took a deep breath while still gazing out the window. “Relax” I said to myself. ‘It’s not a big deal…. I get them all the time….. But never so sudden….’ I exhaled sharply “never –between- the story I was writing”.

 

I turned around and headed towards the door. ‘I’ll walk this dang writer’s block out’. “That’s right...” I said “I’ll walk it out”.

 

I realized something really important in all my sixteen years of writing (if you include doodling)… the more you run after a thought, the ‘more’ it runs away from you. Kinda like you dog on bath day but without soap suds.

 

I walked out the door with my notebook and pen and strolled into our lovely neighborhood. I didn’t care where I would go. I just let my feet guide me.

 

Yeah I know what you must be thinking. Notebook and pen? It is the 21^st century. The time of laptops and fancy gadgets. A writers dream. Portable, handy and completely efficient. It enabled you to write as clear as possible in the least amount of time. No errors or ‘typos’ as we call it. But I think it’s the opposite. I think it has made a mess of the brilliant writers of today. Want to know why? You better do. Because I am gonna tell you anyway.

 

Why do we praise poems and stories written by authors way before out time? It’s because they didn’t have a laptop. Now don’t look at me like that! I haven’t gone loony you know. I am kind of right.

 

Think about it. Writers of the olden times go through their work a bajillion times! Writing, re-writing, writing them again. Going through each and every line as they keep on writing and writing. Finding new mistakes, adding much more better lines in replace of old ones and so on…. They did not have ‘spell check’ or ‘verb confusion error signs’ or even ‘grammar re-consideration hints’. And if you think about it, sometimes their errors turn out to be an excellent addition to the story.

 

Don’t get me wrong. I am completely in the ‘for’ party in the case of technological advancements. I mean, my own friend who is a brilliant writer himself uses the comfort of a laptop and produces the most beautiful stories that even the most famous writer won’t find criticism in. But I prefer a notebook and a pen. It’s as simple as that.

 

Finally, my feet gave up on me (like my brain) and begged for some rest. So I sat down on a cold stone bench in my neighborhood’s park. I remember coming here really often as a kid. At that time I though this place was ‘humongous’ but if you look at it from a partial adults point of view. It’s not really that big after all. Utter disappointment.

 

I looked around a bit more, hoping to find something that catches my eye.

There was the play ground part, with kids screaming their heads off while playing. There was the walking path filled with a lot of heavy ladies power walking with their dogs. And in the corner of the path were two kids sitting on the side.

I sat up straighter and looked at them more closely.

 

They seemed to be really young kids. A girl and a boy. The girl was about seven and I estimated the boy to be five. They happened to be really absorbed into their ice cream cones. I smiled as I noticed their faces, splotched with creamy white ice cream right up to their noses. They ate as slow as possible as if trying to make the ice cream last longer and absorbing ever drop of happiness it brought them.

 

Being young must have been nice. While the only problem you had was running out of games to play. Times where you talk to yourself in a sing-song voice not worried about how people might think of you or even times where you didn’t need a reason to burst out in fits of laughter.

Well I don’t see why you can’t do that now; maybe that’s why my parents keep on saying “cherish your childhood” so many times. Ah, thoughts like this makes me want to be an immature kid again. Bah! Puberty sucks.

 

So then two kids were in absolute bliss when suddenly, a bike ran past the boy and frightened him to drop his cone.

 

Surprised at the sudden action, it took him a few moments to register the fact that his beloved ice cream was on the dirty ground being devoured by ants! At an instant, he burst into a piercing scream, with tears running down his face. My sudden reaction was to run up to him. I hate it when kids crying like that.

 

And as I walked towards him something caused me to stop.

The bigger girl looked at the boy, with a quizzical thought on her face. Then she looked back at her half eaten ice cream, and then she sighed and gave her half eaten cone to the boy.

The boy forgot about the recent tragedy and hastily grabbed the cone and began mushing his face into it before it disappeared again.

 

And the girl? Well she looked sad at first, like she was about to cry for herself. Then after looking at how content the little boy was, she dint seem to mind anymore. It seemed to me as if she was thinking ‘oh well, easy come…easy go’.

 

Hey what about the big goof standing there watching this? Who? You mean me? Oh… well I did what I am sure, any soft hearted person would have done. I went over to the ice cream stand and bought another cone for the girl. Yeah that’s me. A big coconut on the outside and a mushed up marshmallow on the inside. Now doesn’t that sound familiar?

 

After giving it to the girl who (I think) said ‘tankh yuu’ with a mouth full of ice cream -and a huge grin-, I began to walk out of the park. And soon found yet another thing that caught my eye.

 

Wrinkled skin, snowy white hair. To me, an old man couldn’t look any more graceful. He was dressed in clothes the color of his hair with many nurses around him.

Wait. In a park?

I looked a little more observantly. He was really, really old. He had this machine behind his wheel chair and a small pipe coiled around his wrist.

He looked really sad. I felt something uncomfortable form in my chest by just looking at him.

Why was he so sad?

Was it because he is old?

Then it hit me…. It was because he was lonely.

Yeah, the nurses were around him, but he still felt inconceivably alone. Hey wait a minute. Wasn’t he the father of the richest man in town? My eyes grew wider.

He was.

 

I looked at him a little more closely. He was so depressed… his mouth was stuck in a permanent grimace. Was he really deprived of that much attention at home? What about his son? His grand kids? Anybody? At some point I felt like walking up to him and cracking a cheesy pig joke (?). But just when I was about to do my 2^nd good deed for the day I saw the old man’s eyes grow wide. For the 1^st time in weeks maybe. And what caused him to do that?

A golden colored furry dog.

 

You’re giving me the ‘you-are-mental’ look again.

 

But it was a gorgeous dog! He just walked up to the old man and began licking his hand. The nurses tried to shoo it away but the old man told them to leave it alone. The dog was panting hard and his tail was wagging like it was set on fire (figure of speech people!)

 

He really like the old man. And I guess the old man liked him back as he had a toothless (and yet very amusing) grin on his face. I grinned too, like a magnetic reaction to what was happening.

 

The man patted the dog on the head and scratched it behind the ears to which the dog responded really well. I gave it one last smile and turned to leave the park.

Then I began thinking; every one wants to be rich. But if this (I though of the old man’s sadness) is that wealth brings you, then maybe I don’t want to be rich after all.

 

Suddenly my head felt lighter. The block was clearing out. ‘That was quick’ I thought, and to completely wipe the block out of my head. I was going to go to my most favorite secluded place in the neighborhood.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

Now my legs were aching. When did this hill grow such a hard climb?! Oh well, the view on top makes it completely worth it. Finally, I reached the top. Old oak was happily standing on top of the hill facing the neighborhood. Now I won’t go into the detail of the magnificent view I saw.

Use your own imagination you lazy people! Do it. Now! Close your eyes and think of the most breath taking scenery you can think of. Got it? Now that’s was what I could see. Pretty isn’t it?

 

I fell back into the grass with my arms spread wide and landed with soft thud. It was pretty hot today but dear old oak’s shade made it quite comfortable for me.

I could see the sky between the tree’s branches. After some time it turned orange. With hints of black… and soon the stars would come out.

 

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

I wish I could look at the world in a writer’s perspective all the time. You seem to look at everything with such a unique view. You try to put everything into words; sights, sounds, instances etc. your entire life becomes kind of like a story but written invisibly by some one else.

Hmm… I though about those two kids, the old man, my stupid writer’s blo- hey, wait a minute. My head fells incredibly lighter. Dry throat, itchy hands. Well what do u know. My stupid head isn’t blocked anymore!

 

I quickly sat up and looked around. It was almost dark. I could see fire flies gathering on the grass. I absorbed a few more seconds of the scenery and ran home.

I had a story, I actually had a story! And the weird part?

 

It had nothing to do with the previous one.

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

“There! Done!” I said happily as I picked up three sheets of paper. Okay it wasn’t much. But at least I finished it and it had absolutely nothing to do with my previous story (mental note: finish that one it later).

 

Now for the final touch. To read it of course!

 

“One summer day, a small ten year old boy got the most random idea. And what was that? Well, he wanted to see god.

 

He always hears his mother talking about it. He always heard the priest in church talking about him too. But who was he? Why do we praise him so much? Why do we have to wake up so early on a Sunday morning and wear the most annoying set of clothes? Why?

 

Well he wanted all these questions answered. So he packed a carton of juice and a bag of chips in his knapsack and set out for his journey.

 

He passed through a park where he felt unusually tired. So he looked for a bench to sit on. He found one with an old man on the other end. So he sat down and unpacked his edibles. He dint notice the old man who was looking at him. More like staring at his food. He seemed to be hungry too.

The boy noticed the old man staring at him and offered some of his chips.

 

Then, the old man flashed the most beautiful smile the boy has ever seen. Right after the old man took some chips, his smile faded. The boy longed to see another genuine smile like the one he had seen before. So he offered the old man some juice.

 

And again the old man smiled. The boy felt happy. But as soon as he realized his happiness, he also realized that it was almost sun set. His quest had to end on the basis of mom making fried chicken that night.

 

He got up and went home.

When he reached home, casually his mother asked him “so what did you do today?”

“Oh, I met god...” he said “and you know what mom...? He has the most beautiful smile” the mother smiled at her son’s baffling innocence and kissed his forehead.

 

 

 

As for the old man, he went home too. On reaching home his son asked him the same question, “So what did you do today dad?”

 

The old man replied “I met god……..” he continued... “But I never knew he was so young!!”

 

 

 

From everything that happened in the park today. I bet you must be thinking ‘she drew inspiration from the two kids and the old man’

 

Well you’re absolutely wrong.

 

I don’t draw inspiration from the ‘things’ people do around me…… but the things they are thinking about while doing what they do.

That sounds complicated doesn’t it? Well that’s how my crazy brain works.

And frankly…..

 

I love it.

 

Author's Note

Funny enough... I wrote this story thinking 'I' had a writers block. =D

Reviews

[Lauren Marie]

Okay, after I get passed the yadda yadda that was cute blah blah blah, here's the things I had problems with:
1. "I looked around a bit more, hoping to find something that catches my eye." Thoughout this story, you switched tenses. Just go back and read it aloud, making sure that everything flows.
2. "The dog was panting hard and his tail was wagging like it was set on fire (figure of speech people!)" I think we all know it's a simile. The word "like" tells us that. You don't need to write a figure of speech and then tell us that you wrote a figure of speech. This bothered me because it made me feel like you thought I wouldn't know what a simile is. Except I have firmly grasped the concept of "simile."
3. The "Three page story," that he wrote, wouldn't have been three pages in reality. Unless he wrote really big.
4. And I had problems with this paragraph, "Now my legs were aching. When did this hill grow such a hard climb?! Oh well, the view on top makes it completely worth it. Finally, I reached the top. Old oak was happily standing on top of the hill facing the neighborhood. Now I won't go into the detail of the magnificent view I saw. Use your own imagination you lazy people! Do it. Now! Close your eyes and think of the most breath taking scenery you can think of. Got it? Now that's was what I could see. Pretty isn't it?"
First off, in a narrative, you never use the word "you," unless you're writing in second person. Then you tell us to close our eyes! But now we can't read ... Also, please just describe it. He's standing on top of the hill facing the neighborhood, right? Then you tell us to imagine the most beautiful scenery in the world. Well guess what? Mine was the Matanuska Glacier, located in Alaska--not a neighborhood. This paragraph (to a reader) can say that the writer isn't very good at describing things. But that's always easily fixed. Describe the five senses, colors, shapes, feelings, etc., and you'll have a beautiful description!

This story reminded me a lot of my own story titled, "Moments."

Keep on writing!
~Lauren

[-Jaime-]

It's been a while since I actually read something that made me laugh "Kinda like you dog on bath day but without soap suds." loved that sentence. Very enjoyable. Yes you have some tense problems and such; but the way the story is set up, I just can't agree with most of the other detailed complaints; e.g. Lauren Marie said: "This bothered me because it made me feel like you thought I wouldn't know what a simile is. Except I have firmly grasped the concept of "simile." " I just don't think it's a valid point given the laid back tone of the story.... I could have done without the story within the story though; you didn't need to make a point at the end. It threw you way too far from what you had worked on. "It had nothing to do with the previous one." if you had ended there, it would've been stronger.

[Raef C. Boylan]

I have to agree with Lauren Marie about the switches in tense - maybe have a quick read through your story, decide which tense works best and make it consistent.
I enjoyed the conversational tone of this, the way your narrator made us, the readers, more involved in the action by addressing us directly at certain times. I liked how she seemed to be having fun.
Three-fold story. You did well with it.
Thanks for sharing this and thanks for reading my piece.

[Anya]

I was laughing all the way through :D
"Kinda like your dog on bath day but without soap suds." I was reall cracking up there hehe
I loved it! I think Lauren was a little harsh. It was written for fun, right? Therefore one is allowed to have some fun with it! I loved the small additions like the figure of speech bit. It made me smile.
Awesome stuff :D