What to Write?

Sometimes, when i can't think of something to write, I blame the hot weather on a cold December. I heard every noise and distractions a night can offer.  I push myself up to the last thought but I'll end spending hours staring on a blank paper, thoughts wandering but nowhere to go. 

When I can't think of something to write, I'll invent stories; stories with no ending, neither a beginning. I'll spend time chatting with characters I've made up, forming their roles and making a mess with them.

 I forced my poor mind to complete even just one sentence that makes sense, and unfortunately end up with nothing. All words jammed together without a clear thought, just like a blur.

When I can't think of something that makes sense, I blame the tiresome, long day, for draining up my wit and strength. I try to relax and unwind for a minute but still, gained nothing but a yawn.

But my poor heart wants to say something to the world yet my mind can't decipher what the heart wants to say. I try my best to hear my conscience--- if it can help me with something wonderful. Alas, I can only hear my own voice singing a Carpenters' song. Even my conscience takes a break.

I read magazines and even the Bible for some inspirations, but  I only got make up tips and 'how to make him notice you' information, though helpful, I admit. Oh, yes, the Bible says, "Wisdom is in every thought of the intelligent people; fools know nothing about wisdom".

When I can't think of something to write, I blame my boring love life---- Oh, I don't even have a 'love life'. A woman in love can write a novel about how she feels at exactly that moment, expressing her love by thousand words. I thought that's why I can't even write one sentence that makes sense--- I'm not in love.

When inspiration doesn't spend time with me, sometimes even a fortnight, i feel so empty.
A writer needs inspirations to write. And when passion seems like taking a rest too, like a fire in an open field, trying to stay ablaze in a stormy weather--- there's nothing poorer than that to a writer; a broken glass; a wet book; a withered plant.

When I can't think of something to write, I blame my pen and my notebook, for not keeping up with my mood. And after a series of erasures and wasted, crumpled papers, i forced myself again.

And soon, everything fits to place. There's no one to blame really, not even myself. Oh, blame is such a harsh word because I realized, all these jammed words, still made sense--- even when I can't think of something to write.

Author's Note

just another thought from my journal. what i feel when i can't think of something to write.

Reviews

[h cingisiz]

Uncanny, I just a moment ago read Writer's Block by Raven Wells (http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/RavenWells/1084821/) I love how you persevered to write even though you wrote about how you could not write (the parody is complex) that in itself deserves great praise.

[oxo]

thank you, i just wrote what i really felt, felt so blank. :)