Because sending a letter is delightful , and receiving one is as equally wonderful.
Alas, in this digital era of instant delivery and a la minute text, it is becoming a lost art…
(Ink drawing, 2018)
Articles about my book about midlife crisis and identity crisis and expatriate situation (the action is set in London) have been published lately in one online magazine (another one soon to follow) and on the website of Entrepreneurs Expatriates and I am very happy about it. And grateful to the journalists who wrote them. The following days the book sales did well and it is very rewarding and this boosts the morale! I wish for every writer to experience it.
I also had an interview with a French blogger based in Shanghai (soon to be back in France for the next 3 years) last Thursday.
Last month I also got interviewed live on a radio show in Vienna, on the radio of a French speaking radio program. The radio show is Les Sardines Francophones. The radio host, Claire, wants to do a more detailed interview and I will be meeting with here in Vienna in July.
She was very interested in the book, even saying that some points featured in the article in le Petit Journal echoed with her life as an expat woman.
As a writer and a blogger she also gave me good advice and assured that I should put together a blogtour of my book.
I had thought about it, but had no precise idea where to begin, and I am mostly connected with English writing bloggers or writers.
Here are the links to the articles :
Here also a link to my bio if you were interested in learning a little more about me 😉
I will keep you posted, folks!
BTW, If you are a blogger (or know one) blogging about writing and/or expatriation and /or London, and willing to do a review or my book I will be happy to get in touch with you and provide you with a full Q&A and synopsis of the book!
Thanks for your support, I am glad my endeavours finally got the results I wanted!
Hope yours get you to meet your dreams.
well, it’s been a long pause, not only because of summertime.
The time between the last post and this one saw many changes in me, for me and those around me, long story short : all areas are impacted : friends, family, health, work, personal and less personal, adjustments and all along with me in this adventure : the emotional roller coaster (not just me, but the ones close to me too).
To stay afloat and remain “zen” one solution >> meditation and deep breathing. Even moved houses >> paint job ongoing!
Good news is I focused more on writing and career and reached the final sentence of 2nd book (drama novel), on which I had been working for more than 3 years and a half. Sent to publisher, there will be some editing, but the baby has safely been delivered.
Secondly, personal growth (always good I should say) and greater clarity about career path, and side tracks, new ideas and new friends (kindred spirits, who cannot like that?) and business partnership taking shape (oh Joy).
Thirdly, glorious time in London (work, research, friendships and a bit of craziness with sister >>>delightful). In LDN I met incredible people, went to incredible venues and parties and even was invited to the ceremony of lawyers being called to the bar in one of the 4 Inns, it was fantastic, saw old friends, made new ones and got to make new acquaintances, went for a drink at the Aquashard and had dinner at the Oxo Brasserie with lil sis. Went to Chichester theater Fest, attended talks and strolled the hills of the Heath. Even went to see the last live show of the Monty Python gang! Such fun! Monty Pythoned since an early age, I could not miss it.
Oh the glorious, glorious time!
And lastly, my poem “Vingt ans en Quatorze” (Twenty years old in 1914) received the 1st Prize, category French, from the David Burland Poetry Prize, based in the UK. Great honor and deep joy.
Happy? More than that!
Adios, Pharrell Williams ! You can stay in your room, because I M HAPPY and I am the one who set fire to the dancefloor this 18th of August when the results were published!
My mind is bursting with ideas, I am finishing another story (ebook maybe?) and a set of short stories for lit comps.
Developing a certain project also, that has nothing to do with the written word and it make me feel good too, I am a bit tired but am bursting with energy on a creative level.
Hope you are feeling energised too, and supremely so!
So long folks! Be successful, stay safe, create and nurture well your body, spirit, and mind.
Being a writer, apart from being a lonely job, seldom immediately rewarding or even bringing daily satisfaction is also about being able to reach out to get your work noticed, remarked, chosen, published, and ultimately, read. Because, we , oddjobbers, do not write just for ourselves, to answer our true nature or to find answers, or maybe because we want to temporarily dwell into a better place than the one we actually have to deal with,(or have had to deal with in the past), or to entertain others and ourselves, we must also tackle the task of putting that handkie on the shyness or unwillingness to get out of the study, and deal with the world outside and the readership that awaits us. It’s about becoming bolder, more self-confident and proudly starting to talk about what we do, what we write and sometimes, (when asked) explain why we write and how our stories enter others’ mind, soul or thoughts, and how they mingle with their own life. Because it’s all about feeling that what happens or has happened was once experienced by others, thus allowing closure, joy, sadness, anger, a sense of empowerment in a way, to come to the surface of our souls underneath the polishing of society (and how to behave in any circumstance). Then you find yourself talking to a friend or a stranger and sharing personal facts, and beyond the emotion that suddenly resurfaces, a bond emerges, and at that point, you know that your lonely hours of writing, fighting with yourself not to censor yourself too harshly, or precisely because it’s painful to revisit some memories, are not vain. You put words on situations and emotions and you allow others to speak up their soul because you gave them the words they were searching for. They can own those emotions because they can express them, because you gave them words, be it poetry, fiction, a song, an ode, a line in a play, a dialogue between characters in a script…
It’s a lonely task, to write, but you’re not alone.
And the next stop now is : marketing your talent, getting that readership that craves for your words. It’s time to have those bookmarks printed and the flyers and postcards too, to include in any correspondence (even bills, why not?) .
Time also to try that fancy cafe and propose and schedule a signing… They will be more than willing to host your signing event, trust me. I’m organising mine already 😉
(picture copyright 2014 FVFOX, communication postcard)
Good day to you, fellow oddjobbers, keep up the good work!
My friend Insomnia wants to see me.
And she won’t let me alone until I’ve woken up, taken water and wondered enough about the meaning of life.Or written about it.
It’s always at 3 in the morning.
See that light on the window there? That’s me.
I’ve learned over the years that each type of insomnia has its hour. 3 in the morning, it’s the anxiety hour insomnia. Well, I do not see why she still wants to see me, because I already have come to terms with the fear of Death, and it had taken me a long time, but I have shifted from a career in marketing and/or the rollercoaster of employment happiness to a writing job (not yet really financially satisfying, but I am working on it). The articles I write about TV series and cinema in a newsletter for the French community are appreciated, and my book of collected short stories is about to be out (in editing). Everything else is fine. So I do not see the reason for the 3 am insomnia.
The only explanation would be that since I have become acquainted with this strange phenomena, when I was 14 (I’ve reached the blessed years of mid-life crisis), it has stuck around my sleep without respite. I’ve begun a book about a woman, expatriate, who falls into a coma, in the heart of the night, probably to exorcise my fears. I’ve written poems while the moon glowed gloomily or when she was as thin as a thread through my window, I’ve skyped with my sister or friends ,surprised to hear of me so early in their European daytime hours.
I never intended in the first place to talk much about me, my life, my age, being a mother caring for her children, or her significant other. I intended to write about coffee and its contribution in the writing world, and about TV series and films noirs. Maybe it’s not enough. Maybe others write better about those subjects or maybe I should post more of what I write. I am shy, you see.
I feel fragile sometimes, because I have not yet found why my sleep is so brittle. I have found relief in meditation and exercise, when I sleep two night without disturbance, I feel happy and refreshed, and no circles under my eyes. It started, I suppose, with the difficult relationship I encountered with my mother, which has not particularly been easy. Unlike her, I do not relish conflict, and I leave the battle field ASAP when she drags me there. I’ve started meditating and apply some changes in my life within myself because I do not want for my children to experiment a “yelling and yield management” of our relationships.
I chose kindness and understanding, I’ve chosen to speak words of care and love instead of harsh words. She’s wounded, she wounded me, she hurt me. But I have chosen to heal. And I did.
Maybe I should post more about myself, or more of my writings.
Please, give me a clue, I feel too fragile to think.
I should redefine the tagline above, because I do not want to write about coffee or films noirs. Or I lust find a more catchy name “cafecultureaddict”, really. Isn’t it a bit weird? Besides, I’m no coffee expert. I like the scent, which I find intoxicating, I take one coffee a day, but I prefer tea, I get great amount of caffeine from dear Earl Grey.
Last year, I considered volunteering at the hospital near my home, the idea came back this year. I’ve already visited people in hospital, old persons, whose family did not come to see anymore. It was heartbreaking. I was 21 at the time. I am stronger now. And still a bit fragile, sometimes.
It’s our human paradox, I guess.
Good day , did you like my poem “Textual”, BTW?
Peace and care,
Hello All, dear fellow oddjobbers and readers,
Just a quick reminder for us all (and me particularly) : do not quit, tackle the task with renewed energy and trust that completion is just there, within reach.
(I know it, I just finished another short story yesterday, I just need to CLING to the idea that I can do MORE).
I have to write more, edit faster, and harness this reflex of sitting at my desk no matter what with an increased will power.
Discipline, I love you, come visit me more often.
(image : Pinterest)
(For the bonus, see at the bottom : it’s a poem I wrote a while back)
So here’s the deal I made with myself : write 5 pages a day. In English, in French, in German, in gibberish. I have segmented it : ideally it should be like that : one page for a short story, one page for this novel I begun a while, one page for poetry, and the two remaining pages to whatever feels good or easy to write. Because sometimes, when you are engulfed in one project, an idea belonging to another project is nagging, and won’t let you be in peace until you have acknowledged it, and taken time to do something about it.
I have become more abstemious about the time I allow to writing. I do much preparation while driving, or shower (how cliché is that?), at the doctor’s or while at the grocer’s (this is a screenwriter’s tips : take your characters with you, it gives good insight an indications about their psychology).Thus leading to higher efficiency, probably. Anyway.
(source Pinterest &Katy Jeffords)
All that to say that this assignment to produce 5 pages a day is harder than I thought, yet I will not give in.
Mind you, 5 p/day x 360 ( I allow 5 days to call in sick and to be exempted) =1.800 p/ year.
Average pages/ fiction book : 200.
So 5 p/day equals 9 books per year, Or 15 scripts of 120 p (= 120 min), or 32 TV screenplays of 55 min. Or 300 short stories of 6 pages each. (Whoah, I wish I can produce 300 short stories within a year!)
Makes a girl think.
Well, I think I need a secretary to type all that, now…..;-D
Flo, not caffeinated enough this morning.
PS : What have you been writing lately?
It’s been a long time since I said I write many things, if you are interested, please find below a poem written in English.
Let me know if you liked it! (If not, then, please keep it for you, thank you) . And do not worry, I’m deeply in love with life.
Life’s a bitch ©FloreVaVF
Sometimes, I don’t like Life
And need to think of an exit
Surely from an obliging knife
I could borrow a way to quit.
But I guess I love you too much, bitch
So I’ll just grab you by the throat
To get it steady when you twitch
And change the chapters you ghostwrote.
Many times, I’ve carried my fate
Heavy as a burden, whereas your stupid minions
Display disgusting luck like a cheap bait
For others to feed on like ravens.
I guess we love you too much, bitch
So we grab you by the throat,
To get satisfaction before we ditch
In their mouth a symbolic banknote
All this time, I wanted you, Life
To explain how you chose my path
Why you throw at me constant strife
As you demand respect instead of wrath.
Let me guess, you’ve loved me, bitch
And you’ve grabbed me by the throat
At birth, so in my poor heart you would stitch
This endless hope that I will stay afloat
This endless hope gets me to think we’ll stay afloat
This endless hope gets me to think we’ll stay afloat
I’m sorry it’s been an awful long time since I last posted something. I drafted, but haven’t published yet, a post regarding Sherlock again, and another one regarding this gem of a radioplay that I discovered recently (3 weeks ago, actually), named “Cabin pressure”, by and with John Finnemore, with the übertalented Benedict Cumberbatch as Cpt Crief. And yesterday I happened to share my enthusiasm with a talented blogger who writes plays and scripts in France (latetearire.canalblog.com in French).
I felt a bit , huh… disengaged or disconnected with the blog, engulfed that I was in the strange thought that I needed maybe to change the main topic of my blog, allowing my fed-up self to rename it “Rawfoodista with a serious TV addiction”, because I’ve just been trapped by the alluring charms of Raw Food, while still most evenings being glued on my screen, watching MI-5 (old, I know, but this is the Netflix magic, or NorthSquare, or Silk, and To the Ends of the Earth, and Michael Palin’s series, and Breaking bad, etc), sparing just enough time to write and still being able to deserve the label “author”.
I even did not visit some of the blogs I like most, that I follow and enjoy reading. Or maybe it’s because I have to come to terms with this perfectionism of mine, leading me to edit again and again, and again, and, yes… again (to be sure that I chose the right words, you know). Fortunately, the contests I participated to require to shut up the perfectionistic chatter and get going, delivering texts or scripts on time! So, Hoorray for contests, harsh on our oddjobber’s ego and wonderful on our capacity of commit ourselves to give the best and go the extramile for excellence. I also started to attend yoga classes and to hit the gym on a more regular basis, too. I discovered this horrible thing : barbell, and strengthening the core.
So lately, while focusing on my sore muscles buried deep down under this belly fat I decided to get rid of (some people have chocolate tablet abs, mine are MELTED choc tablet abs, if you must know, yeah, you can say it : Nutellalike), I thought that I might as well build a writing strength. Yeah! And the core, in writing, is the decision to start, sit at the table and ink those pages, type on the laptop and see the amount of pages being numbered increasing, at the bottom of your document.
While on the treadmill or on the whateveritsname machine, as I see the distance I’ve just run becoming bigger, I focus more specifically on my decision to achieve a particular goal : today I write one COMPLETE chapter, or today, I achieve a character bio, but so thoroughly, it looks like a FBI file, digging as deep as the colour of its first pair of sneakers !
And so as I sweat and breathe (“breath in
peace in mind motivation”-“breath out negative vibes procrastination”), my attention gains in strength (because of the focus) and I can switch my thoughts onto what I need to get written. I can plug useful steps in my routine, like “another 1/4 mile on how to raise the stakes, another 1/2 mile on developing the subplot, another 1/4 mile on figuring out why she is dissatisfied with her life and how in 5 words I can describe her?”
My feet firmly on the ground, I imagine how good it feels like, to go home in a moment, my head full of useful ideas and knots being untied, my body feeling lighter and energized and my thoughts being refreshed both by the exercise and by the strength I put on my work (and in my workout).
I do not allow my thoughts to be distracted by any other fancy idea (coffee with friends later today? oh, the bookshop’s not so far, I need new shoes for this wedding I attend in June…).
I stay focused, I take steps, I climb into my own schedule of work and get things done, I ink those blank pages and I go on. And I do it again. And in the end, I win. Just as I finish my workout program (5 miles on the tread after one hour yoga), I finish my writing goal : having written one chapter.
I build strength, I build discipline and I build habits, healthy habits and I get things done.
As simple as that.
Super bonus : I get a toned body.
And I relaxed my mind….
So, folks, today it’s : Hooray for barbell strengthening the writing habits!
How do you build strong healthy habits?
Drop me a line, I always love to hear from you.
Floreva, stronger and (hopefully) wiser 😉
Dear readers, fellow oddjobbers , sharers of a glimpse of your thoughts about this world, providers of happiness,
This week end a major event takes place, the Santa Fe Film Festival.
Many events take place in the cinema field each week. But this one has a particular taste for me. because it’s Santa Fe (3 times in my life I have felt that good in a city, like you belong, ya know? : in London, in Darjeeling and in Santa Fe, I have no explanation).
And parallel to that, I was writing a script for a submission to the London Film Festival. A road movie. the two ideas merged eventually: why not setting the road movie in TX and NM? I mean, the story was already set, constructed, the characters have their back stories, I already had written a good deal, the city of departure and the city of arrival had just not been chosen. So, why not a trip from Houston to Santa Fe?
A crazy idea cropped up : why not going up there with my car? You know, driving all the way, enjoy the scenery and the fabulous landscapes, music blasting, in good company, chatting and laughing, sharing anecdotes, enjoying a rapid meal, before entering this wonderfully energetic city for a big event? And getting free, instant, real-life, consistent impressions for the script? Material readily available!
I very much enjoy a good road movie. The unity of time and space, the journeys, both internal and physical, the grandiose scenery, the confinement leading to confrontation before the resolution and the pacification can occur, has always been profoundly appealing to me.
At a party with friends, the subject of Santa Fe and the Film Festival hosted there came up, as they said they’d drive around New Year’ Eve to White Sands. Conversation drifted then to New Mexico. I didn’t remember the date of the festival, since I only took my subscription to WITHOUTABOX last September, I only knew there is major Festival taking place there, and for instance, that “Brokeback Mountain” was presented there, among others. We all reckoned that Santa Fe has special vibes. It’s a magical city, and some of us agreed that it had a relevant impact on our mind, or souls.
Parties like that boost one’s (that’s me, yes) energy & will to work harder, and to write more!!!
In November I received an alert via WITHOUTABOX (the interface I use for script submission for various contests) about the SFFF. I twitted about it. Got a RT from a director (thanks). And I thought i’d love to see that. And I’ll drive. Houston-Santa Fe. I only needed a friend to share the road, the wheel, the fantastic Week End lying ahead, and a pure cinephilic moment. Plus this director presents his movie there. In Santa Fe. And he wished me safe travels to SFFF. (twitter, you do a great job).
Was I looking for another sign to go there, to stop telling myself it was crazy to even think of going there, 15s hours, etc? There was the sign, bold, unmistakable.
And another thing : the hero in my script (begun 5 weeks previously) bears the same name as this director, only the spelling is slightly different.
The film festival takes place just before my birthday. Festival is Dec 6-9; my b-day is the 10th.
So, I told myself : “that would be the most perfect and accurate B’day present, to go there, see amazing movies and shorts, feel the powerful energy of creativity bursting everywhere, meet interesting people, in the field I want to work more and more with and for…Big Spirit of the World, clear the path and make it happen!”
Yeah, really. Sometimes you got to manifest what your want, loudly and you must be convinced that it will happen. I was confident. I trusted myself to make the right choices and to be strong-willed.
It boosted my writing, I can tell you! I locate their stops and their venues on the map and with Google satellite photos, I feel I travel along with them.
I checked the feasibility, and bingo! Greenlight at every level.
In the meantime, the friend’s availability had been invalidated. Car trip seriously unmanageable. So I checked flights, found one, booked a room and a car in Albuquerque. Bought my tix.
And so be it!
While doing so, I wished I could decide someone to join in at the last minute. Like : you go to a party, and you say : “I’ll go to Santa Fe tomorrow. – How nice? how lucky you are, I wish I could …- Interested? Join me! -OK!!!!”
Driving up there will be for another time, because, come on, it’s 15 hours’ drive. I’ll do it next time, with a car packed with friends as crazy as me for cinema. As it was also a bit short to organise it “impromptu”, (although I just love last-minute crazy ideas for a weekend).
The room I booked, for the SAME price could be either : one-queen-size bed (with kitchenette, easier for meals, you know) OR TWO king-size beds (with kitchenette).
Guess what I chose?
I was very much in the mood of sharing that moment with a good friend.
And I made that wish again : to go there with someone.
And it was granted. Impromtu. Last minute. Last Sunday, at lunch with wonderful friends.
You know that wonderful and terrifying moment when you say : “I go there, it’s crazy stuff to do, but… I’m doing it…Would you like to join me?”. And there goes the answer : “I’d love too! Let’s grab a ticket and …just.do.it”
You think your dream can come true, so you set your mind on a particular frequency, your energy vibrates and bam! it happens. I have a sense that I am on the threshold of a new episode in my life, and I dedicate all my forces, my energy, my focus, my resources, my thoughts, to this achievement, this goal, this new path of fulfillment and of a deeper sense of happiness…
Guess what is the theme of this year’s SANTA FE FILM FESTIVAL?
It could never have been more suited.
Discipline your will, harness your dream and live the life you’re meant to live.
Keep your dream alive, but don’t let it slip through your hands, dear reader/writer.
Floreva, sending you positive energy AMAP (as much as possible)
I’ll post on SFFF later .
Time for reflection about being a writer.
When I was 14, I wrote a novel, not very long. And then, I destroyed it. It was too personal, too raw, too me and I was too vulnerable, or so I thought…I wrote dozens and dozens of poems and texts. I wanted two things : to be a writer AND to play on stage. I was an amateur theater actress and wrote in the school newspapers.
At 16, I wrote down a list of titles for the books I would wrote and a corresponding list of names, the character’s names.This list I still have with me, by my side as I write all that now, for your eyes. I kept on writing, although I had to change my professional choices. Eventually, deeply buried in those marketing jobs, I forgot about my self essential and my real life . Then one night, in August 2010, around 3 in the morning…
…I woke up. I mean, I WOKE UP to my past aspirations. I was in the kitchen, sleep escaping me. My mind is racing. For various reasons, over various subjects. And a thin fragile thread, long forgotten, attached to the very essential part of my soul is hit by a light I thought I had lost years ago. It was given back to me.
The energy of the writing spirit.
Now, at this hour of night, that day, I wanted to fight for that. This was the fighting spirit meeting the writing spirit. Good! Let’s go on!
So, in the heart of the night, I let the sun rise. I wrote for 4 hours on my laptop. Characters knocked on the door of my mind, allowing themselves in, story unfolding neatly and energy increasingly awaking my creativity and my imagination…
Since then I have kept writing.
Now, I feel that I need to write more, to publish frenetically. I feel miserable taht I have not been able to give complete work to my publisher. I am affected by the virus of perfectionism. I rewrite, again and again, and again. I got stuck on sentences for days, to achieve the ultimate construction. Letting go is difficult, and reaching a satisfying level is complexly hard. Sometimes, I think I have not done much in those past months. So I decided to summarize it.
What have I done in those past months, then? (Apart from my daily duties, of course). I did my homework and my work. And I ‘m still on it.
Firstly, I have prepared myself to properly tackle the writing of a script (because I am also a film lover since an early age) so I have :
Secondly, I have written for myself (all) and my publisher (a very small part) and you, -soon to be mine agent (some):
I have relaxed in watching :
In the meantime, when I have an insomnia, I also have observed & studied my targets (thanks Writer’s Market and magazines and blogs and news) and prepared my business and marketing plans, established the communication plan, established a list of other contests I want to participate to. I have a new idea for a short…
I need a coffee, now. Strong, black, ultra caffeinated. Maybe I can just chew some coffee beans… It’s faster and a lot less fussier than brewing a mug ‘o joe…
It’s going to be a short night.
So long, Folks.
What makes us humans want to create things? Why do we create? And how does the process grow in the mind and spirit, to be later translated into piece of work, art, music, film, poetry, sculpture, architecture, DIY, crafts, theater, and so forth?
These questions are not news, naturally, and still, have we got an answer?
As for why? It may be to find an aim to life on earth, provided one has not founhd it yet (maybe). Or is it the eternal desire for eternity. (or, at its worst, desire for immortality, perhaps?).
How? can be split into to parts: the how on a materialistic P.O.V., an how on a more spiritual, disembodied P.O.V.
Whereas the latter is tricky to give an answer to, the former is easily stated : we no longer each day have to get in our gardens (or a field, to harvest it) to crop our veggies for food.
How? on a spiritual P.O.V : Remember Henri-Georges Clouzot (“Les diaboliques”, among other master pieces) filming Picasso in 1955 in Nice? The painter was “drown” into intense concentration developed by the inspiration, painting on a glass, as the camera rolled on on the other side and completely focused on the right gesture.The film was called “The Picasso Mystery”. Picasso was so focused, he ended tired and tensed. Many agree that Clouzot demonstrated the creative process of the artist in that film. Yet one cannnot show the electrical impulses in the brain, from the idea to create something, until its final completion through the hands (drawing, engraving, writing, sculpting, constructing, painting, playing, screenwriting, shaping, manufacture -meaning “fait à la main”, made by the hand, literally translated from Latin-…) or the body (choreography, dance, acting, singing…).
What is the motivation? The desire to surround ourselves with beauty? To leave an immortal chef-d’oeuvre to our fellow inhabitants of the earth? Deliver a message? Induce other to reflect on the civilization and the contemporary society? Find one’s true self through creation, to be shared by other people with a similar sensibility or inclination?
Or just to have fun while doing what one loves and is breathing for? Could it be for the only sake of the beauty of the gesture? The perfect mastery of an art, put into the inner self (as a gift from above) to educate and bring joy to others, as another gift (to be passed on or taught)?
Better still, it’s always nice to think that we, humans, are the result of the process of creation of Mother Nature…
Creatively processed… not bad, as a starter in life…
Keep calm and create, my fellow bloggers or readers, friends and you people I do not know, on the other side of the laptop screen, and the world will be a better place.
PS : P.O.V. : Point of view.
Aha. The writer’s block…
The BIG bad wolf of everyone dealing with writing, be it screenplay, novella, novel, poem, article for a specific field, PhD thesis, internship report, memoir, fiction contest (250 words), plays….
Different prominent masters on the subject of writing have settled down their opinion and the clivage is very easy, as black and white, cold and hot, rain and sun…
For half of them, writer’s block is just a view of mind, namely a concept created by those suffering from it, and they erase the struggle to arrive to the idea that one can easily overcome that state of mind : just sit down and write. Discipline as the strongest fighter, and you, the writer, as the general in charge of organizing and winning the battle… not bad an idea.
The will to write seems to be just the perfect answer.
And, on the other hand, we are offered a more psychological explanation and an emotional meditative approach : writer’s block really exists. And you have to wait until it’s over, and deal with it gently.
You can try to fight it, put yourself at war against it, the best thing will always to let go of that ugly anxiety creeping in your mind that you are not able to produce a single meaningful and/or satisfying sentence. Then… leave it, turn to something else, refresh your mind, do something else, maybe write something else. Find help. Read books on the subjects. Or just do something that has absolutely nothing to do with the subject you are sweating on.
Like many fellow authors, I have experienced THE writer’s block. It is a dark corner where you do not want to be stuck after sun has set or dawned, because it will eat you rest away, make your night all white and your day crappy, burn down the self-confidence you have so patiently pieced together -from various positive comments and solid bricks that construct your path to become an acknowledged author- and that inner feeling in your guts that you must write, because you are born to do so.
As I urged myself on the mindset of sitting behind the white sheet, my fountain pen point resting still on the paper, making a larger stain of black ink, I thought there was no way I could draw a single line nor write more than a sentence.
It lasted for weeks. And it was utterly self deprecating.
First, I thought I should fight it. Again and again, and more, and stronger, and sit there day after day after day, slightly breathing as time escaped me coupled with the fact that I had not done any other thing than waiting for the dark veil to be carried away by my patience. But since I am not a person who likes to waste time and waits for the silence to murmur the words of the Muse’s inspiration, I embraced another conviction. I was willing to write, but not like it was an obligation, and I did not want to let it aside.
So I moved on and did other things and wrote other things. I watched movies and series, to nurture my mind, jog my ability to shell the screenplays of the films I was examining, and exercise the skills I had learned regarding screenwriting and writing.
I wrote poetry and a novella, instead of returning to the main task. But the core of my work remained untouched. In the same time, I stuck on a discipline, although not as harsh nor as iron-willed as advocated in some manuals.
In those moments, I came to think that no one is entitled to allow my writingself to be tucked in a box or another. Between the white idea of fighting like a warrior of the Writing Light and the black pool of letting the block eating one up untiI one would emerge pure and strong again, there is a infinity of greys. (Yeah very cliché, I know, but common sense and clichés are so often easily forgotten in favour of brighter new half-empty concepts, that sometimes one loses touch with what is obvious ..)
And one has to deal with their subtle nuances until one frees oneself from the block.
Writer’s blocks do exist, no need to pretend it is something one chooses to escape their duties, and that the will solely can break it down. It can be highly destructive, creativity-speaking . But writer’s block needs also to be fueled with fresh ideas and dealt with humourously.
Some white and some black, to create one’s very own shade of grey-ish writer’s block.
And being able to overcome it.
Best of luck to you, if you are stuck with that unpleasant companion. Take courage, the journey may be long, but there is always an end station…
Floreva, Writer’sblockfighter, too…
Today, I need to extra-focus. I got to be making progress.
This work on Mallory MUST get significantly dealt with. I need to write more. Perhaps I have to climb Mount Everest myself too to find enlightenment….
As for now, I think, I’ll just need this helper…
… all day long, particularly in the library (where I will stay, glued on my computer, writing, writing, writing, correcting, again and again and again)…
I’ll take also my hot water in a thermos with me and get my caffeine as others just step outside to smoke their cig. With that other little helper.
Newbies (to me at least) from Starbs, found in the store yesterday night.
It’s been 87 years and 11 months today that George Leigh Mallory and Andrew Irvine lost their lives high on the top of the world, about 500ft short of the summit.Next month, the 8th of june, it will be exactly 88 years that they have been resting on the mountain.