#writers unblock

[antiquechampagne]

Character Bios

Full Name: Payne Alias: Champagne aka Dahl aka Dahlia Mansfield Age: ~235 Birthday: October 31st 2053 Species: Ghoul (specialize; Vampire) Ethnicity: unspecified Gender: Female Sex: Female...

These put me in a great head space for reigniting my writing mojo! Time NOT wasted! 

[frangipanidownunder]

Writers Unblock

Tagging @fic-files

I posted yesterday that I had been struggling with a story for days and took the decision yesterday to ditch the story.

This morning I started again - same premise - and worked through a couple of issues. In the previous iteration there was an element of plot that was confusing. In the second iteration I realised that it was the structure of the story that was affecting the plot kink.

Once I’d worked this out, simply by starting afresh, I used a fair chunk of the original prose so I didn’t end up having to do a complete rewrite. What a relief! 

I’m only writing this because I what I saw when I rewrote the story was that I had included some lines of dialogue and prose that opened up all sorts of opportunities in the story. But at the time I wrote them, I had no idea.

I’ve always liked the idea that it is the unconscious brain that writes, as opposed to the subconscious. I think there is a distinction between un and sub. I can honestly say that I don’t know where some of the stuff I write comes from. If I go back and read my work - both fanfic and original - it can be a surprise to me; in fact, it almost always is. There is a place in my brain that churns out plot and character and prose and I don’t seem to have any control over it. It’s fascinating, scary, intriguing and frustrating when it blocks up.

But, you can unblock it. It’s just a matter of taking a different approach, either through restructuring, changing perspective or points of view or tone/voice. Sometimes, it’s the smallest change that makes the biggest difference,  other times it’s wholesale change that works.

But the key is to plug away.

Thanks for listening. I know I’m rambling!

[disgruntledblacksheep]

<Go go go,> I hissed to Racket. He pulled his slingshot taut and edged backwards behind a dumpster.

I crept along the filthy smelly wall, praying that nothing disgusting catches on my sexy as hell pleather biker jacket.

I flip both of my knives open and the satisfying snick! rings like music in my ears.

We both hear a low guttural growl coming from the dark, streetlamp flooded sidewalk beyond the alley way in which Racket and I hid. I could hear Racket's teeth chattering. Even street goons got the heebie jeebies.

I stepped one combat booted foot into the orange glow of the streetlamp and in the corner of my eye saw a scarlet, slightly feathery grey-blue tale slink into the night's darkness that swallowed overturned cars, destroyed buildings, rotting garbage heaps and an abominable number of wild vermin and sleeping strays.

Racket crept behind me. Soon he was close enough that his warm breaths raised the hairs on the back of my neck.

<I saw it too>, he says. <It went left, but we don't know how many there are>.

<We better keep along the edges. As long as none of them can sneak up on us from behind, the odds of us surviving are higher>, I say through clenched teeth, my entire body rattled with nerves.

<Hey, Pillow, just in case we end up on some velociraptor's menu tonight, I have a confession to make>, says Racket.

I roll my eyes despite my fear, and slip my body against a hard surface and creep.

<Arent you gonna ask me what it is?> He asks.

<No. I'm not sure I want to know>, I say, opening and closing my knives, pushing the closing mechanism with my thumbs and forefingers, the cool metal nipping at the thin meat of my fingers.

<Can you at least not flip your knives around like you're planning on gutting me then?> Says Racket, aiming his slingshot behind, his back towards me as we creep away from the alley.

His long black dreds swing back and forth across his back in the darkness that swallows him whole, catching street lamp light like a curtain of sleeping cables.

<I think it's gone,> I say. <Maybe it found something else to scare half to death out here.>

<Maybe, and maybe not. Think I should call out and see if any of my crew is out here?> Racket suggests.

<No,> I say. Then bite my bottom lip. <Well, if push comes to shove. It's enough I'm working with you. Your crew are scumbags. If things get messy I won't hesitate to cut some dicks off>.

<Hey hey, that's a little extra, pillow. All of us out here just want to survive. I know some members of Bloodhounds hurt you in the past, and maybe I should never know who.... but.... they're....we're, not all like that> says Racket, understanding and genuine care in his voice.

Then with one hand, the one with a closed knife in it, I tug at the hem of his ink black duster jacket.

<Shhhhh,> I whisper.

Right there in the ruined street, I saw two eyes reflecting light in the dark. Racket turns to look at me, his eyes were wide with terror, and a gleam of sweat shone on his brow. He places one tattooed hand on my shoulder then pushes off, heading straight into the street with his slingshot, his weapons and gear jangling as he ran.

My heart fluttered with both panic, adrenaline and a drive to preserve the life of my night patrol partner and ultimately, my friend. I pushed off the wall and shot off in the opposite direction in case anything tries to sneak up on him from another angle.

I hear a whistle when I stop between an overturned dumpster and what used to be delivery truck. I look up and see Racket on top of an old rusty car with his slingshot aimed.

<I got you covered, Pill,> he calls out.

I nod, swallow metallic tasting saliva, and look around me frantically. I pull on my night vision goggles from off my forehead just to be sure.

The dusky world turns green. I see burned trees, lots of debris, rats with beady eyes scurrying about. And then, I see it. Razor sharp teeth, long graceful jaw, reptile eyes, intimidating head and back feathers---

I dash behind a door still standing in its frame but without the shop that it was once a part of. I hear growls, snaps, and breathing.

It's here. In fact. They, are here.

TBC

[apolllonia]

she tells her friends, "he's so mean, he's so lustful, he left me"

but i know you're just lonely 

searching for answers you find in her sheets 

but you never believed in kissing them on the mouth

cus thats where two souls meet

and you cant shake the last ghost 

nah, they're never going to be that somethin right

its just another bed, another girl, another night

baby i see in your glimpse and pretend not to see

[howling-foryou]

I feel like I'm tiptoeing but all I wanna do is run.