Friday, 30 October 2015

The Curse of the Writer

Oh I do love passing on curses. I passed on one to my Mumsie - check out her blog Enjoy the writing bug Mother dear.

Writing is what I do. I write, therefore I am. My pen is my power. I could go on forever. I also love sharing writing. I like to write about people, with people, have people write about me, see what other people write, have people see what I write. However, some don't quite get the frustration that comes with knowing the writers special brand of magic.

Fellow writers can probably relate. I have my favourite places to write, places where my inspiration is highest, kind of like the Life Fountains in Medievil (I really need to play that game again) only instead of spewing life, they spew inspiration. One of these places is indeed the Laundromat at the start of Merthyr Road. Another is where I'm sitting right now on the New Farm Riverwalk, next to my dear friend the Brisbane River, facing another friend of mine the Story Bridge. There's another just across the River from South Bank near the Botanical Gardens, where the inspiration is so strong it's quite frustrating that I can't fully process it.
A photo posted by Kerryn Wik-Grutt (@kezzstar24) on

So, being the sadistic fuck that I am, I want to share this feeling with everyone else. The feeling of having inspiration so close, but not being able to grasp it. About that next sentence that you KNOW is there but you just can't write it yet. I think I've figured out a fun little game that will allow me to share my eternal frustration with the world.

You'll need a friend for this. Stand facing each other. Get your friend to close their eyes. Now, without actually touching them, move your hand from their non-writing hand up the arm and across and down to their writing hand, never touching them - they should still be able to sense you. Now, while their eyes are still closed, get them to try and catch your hand, trying to keep it as close as possible to their hand while not quite letting them catch it. If my guess is correct, they will be quite annoyed.

That's what writers block can feel like at times - like you're on the edge of something amazing, you can almost feel it in your fingertips but at the last second it pulls away going "Neh, neh, neh, neh." Happened last Sunday to me while I was walking. I was ropeable.

I suppose I could ignore it, but where's the fun in that? Sometimes it's impossible to ignore too. So I'm just gonna sit here and enjoy my little patches of inspiration, and I'm sure you all will enjoy reading them and laughing at me, thinking about what a lunatic I am and that I should probably be in an institution.

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