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STOP Not Writing - The Writer Avoidance Addict Recovery Book I Wish I Had Years Ago

Courtesy There’s a time in every writer’s life when they so want to write but something, or many things, hold them back. Every hack looks at this road block as unfair, and if you’re a perfectionist or a Doer, negative emotions bubble up to the surface which makes the matter even worse. Doubt Fear Lack of Knowledge/Experience The Holy Trinity of a thing called Writer’s Block. If you gain the knowledge and experience and kill the doubt and bore the fear, you become a prolific writer, and your professional literary dreams will come true. As long as you acknowledge the existence, and necessity, of the fourth ingredient… Hard work. So many new writers view this profession as completely romantic. They see Paris in the springtime, erudite conversations in swank cafes by night. Love making by the Seine and words flowing like champagne as the after-effect. Rrright. Uh-huh. I’d so make time for those lovely moments, but in betwe

A Second Chance at Saying No...

Day 19, 971 of my life...

Today a man appeared inside my head.
I could tell you he looked like Gizmo from the cartoon, The Flintstones, but that would be wishful thinking, and a lie.

He was taller… much taller, and not in the least green.
Quite a stern expression, and when my grey cells got closer to him, he smelled of decayed wood. That’s not a bad thing, really, as it was decayed maple wood—a rancid kind of sap scent mixed with mould.

He said his name was Frank.
He told me he was a former teacher.
He also told me he was dead.
I kind of figured as much due to the decay. Most people inside my head, who are alive, smell fresh.
I casually asked, “What grade?” And he said, “Grades 5 and 6.”
Hm… Nice grades. Old enough to talk with but young enough to dream big.

I looked at him with that expression you throw out when you’re waiting… wondering, what the hey?

“Oh, I’m here to give you a second go-‘round for all your yearnings.”

“Yearnings? Like, you mean, cravings? Like muffins and cake?”

“No.” His flashed expression, that of a learned man wondering why in the hell he was stuck helping a moron. He added, “All the things you keep wanting to relive. All those desires to return to places, to live again with people. I’m here to take you back. I’ve been told you’re a good candidate for assistance, so here I am. Get ready. Let’s go.”

I sat there and sipped my coffee as he sat there inside my mind waiting for me to finish sipping my coffee. I really had nothing to say. The thought, the idea, that I could abandon Now for Then… and with my current intelligence, experience, return and re-do, re-see, re-live… and re-love?

After suffering long enough in my vacuous mind, I said, “No. It’s okay. Thanks for the second chance, all the same, but I think I’ll pass.”

“Then why all this constant bluster? Why the fantasizing, the bemoaning, the dreaming?”

“I don’t know. I’m Irish and I’m Pisces. I think it’s what we do.”

The man crossed his legs and lit a cigarette.
My frontal lobe smelled of burning tobacco.
I could tell he wasn’t going anywhere.
He was settling in for a long wait. Just in case I changed my mind.


B J's Bookshelf...

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
The Hobbit
The Joy Luck Club
All the King's Men
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Mansfield Park
Faust: First Part
The Catcher in the Rye
Islands in the Stream
And the Sea Will Tell
Animal Farm
Charlotte's Web
Sophie's Choice
Angela's Ashes
Memoirs of a Geisha
Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood
The Secret Man: The Story of Watergate's Deep Throat
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
The Hunt for Red October

B. J. Thomspon's favorite books »

B J's Literary Heros ~ Ernest Hemingway ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald ~ James A. Michener ~ Herman Wouk ~ James Jones ~ Vincent Bugliosi

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