Crazy. Confused. Who Am I Again?

I  know  I’m  supposed  to  be  writing.  I  know.  I  have  chapters  waiting  for  my  attention.  I  have  blog  posts  demanding  to  be  written.  And  yet,  here  I  am.  Writing  absolutely  nothing  coherent.

Stop  that.  I  can  feel  the  penetrating  glare  coming  from  you.  I  know  you’re  waiting  on  me.  I  am,  too.

My  words  have  gone,  flown  away  for  a  well-needed  holiday.  What  good  does  that  do  me?

It  doesn’t.  I’m  left  stranded  here  day  after  day  staring  at  the  blank  screen,  and  expecting  the  words  to  show.

Much  like  this post.  Are  you  bored  yet?

The  clock  keeps  ticking  like  a  penetrating  beat  reminding  me  of  the  time  I’m  wasting.  The  sun  melds  with  the  moon  more  often  than  I’d  like.  I  have  nothing  to  show  for  the  days  gone  by  besides  a  frustration  headache.  I’m  pushing  back  deadlines  again  and  again.  I’m  running  on  empty.

You  know  the  film  Pirates  of  the  Caribbean?  Yeah,  it’s  awesome,  right?   Sorry,  sidetracked.  Anyway,  you  remember  the  pirate  guy   that’s  always  chasing  after  his  wooden  eye?

Yeah?  That’s  me,  trying  to  find  my brain,  but  the  sneaky  monkey  keeps  running  off  with  it.  The  task  is  admittedly  too  big  for  one  person.  I  need  your  help.

The  last  time  I  checked,  my  brain  was  occupied  with  thoughts  of  Luna  and  Riley  getting  ready  to  battle  the  next  obstruction  in  their  lives.  If  you  find  it,  it’ll  probably  come  with  a  warning  label:  Welcome  to  Crazy,  population  one.

Anyway,  I’m  so  confused  in  my  own  head  space  that  I  can’t  even  remember  what  the  point  of  this  post  was  supposed  to  be.

I  bet  you’re  glad  you  wasted  time  reading  it  now.

P.S.  There’s  irony  to  this  post,  if  you  can  find  it  of  course. 😉

Sprinting Without Running

I  wanted  to  write.   To  clear  my  thoughts,  impart  some  wisdom,  and  to  leave  an  imprint  in  the  world’s  readers.  I  wanted  to  inspire,  to  have  my  words  relate  to  others,  and  to  speak  the  truth  through  my  minds  imagination.

I  wanted  to  say  something.

But  I  couldn’t.

I  couldn’t  find  the  words  of  my  story  though  I  knew  what  I  wanted  to  say.  What  could  I  do?

Staring  at  the  computer  screen  proved   ineffective,  and  my  attention  span  wavered  way  too  frequently  towards  finding  something  better  to  do.  The  achievement  chart  on  the  wall  beside  me  stared  me  down  in  a  silent  challenge.  I  wanted  to  fill  in  the  days  writing  goals,  but  92  words  seemed  pathetic  for   a  whole  days  work.  I  couldn’t  write  that  down.

I   was  frustrated  at  myself  for  slowing  down.   I  had  deadlines  to  meet,  and  at  the  rate  I  was  going  they  would  pass  me  by  with  little  to  show  for  it.

I  needed   the  ‘writer’s  block’  cure.  What  was  it?

Word  sprints.

I  called  to  the  power  of  twitter  for  writers  alike,   who  like  me,  needed  the  extra  incentive  to  get  on  with  it.  A  20  minute  sprint  with  a  writer  unknown  was  all  I  needed  to  increase  my  92  words  to  830.

How  did  it   work?  Why  did  it  work?

Friendly  competition  was  enough  to  spur  me  on.  It  kept  my  concentration  focused  long  enough  to  tap   away  at  the  keys  furiously,  to  move  my  story  along,  and  to  meet   a   new  acquaintance  in  the  process.  The  timer  chirped  signalling  the  end  of  the  session,  and  it  was  time  to  check  in  to  relay  the  number  of  words  we’d  achieved.  It  didn’t  matter  who’d  won,  it  was  the  companionship  between  writers  to   help  each  other  out  that  was  important.

Sprinting  was  becoming  my  favourite   activity.  It  quickened  my  heart  and  sharpened  my   mind,  and  turned  my  writing  into  something  more.

Are  you  ready  to  sprint?