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WRITERS STUFFS

writers-block-peanuts

 

Have you ever thought about writing?

Have you ever tried to write a short-story or a poem, or maybe – as your first attempt – a novel?

I have always written in my life, about anything and everything.

I can create lot of new stories every day, each day; while I am washing my hands, while I am talking with someone, while I am walking, studying or…well, yes, each single day.

I feel as if I have got a file inside my brain, and suddenly I hear something like an inner alarm clock that says something like: “New idea’s coming!”

It is so strange, isn’t it?
But when the alarm clock of my inner file rings, it rings ALWAYS when I have no way AT ALL to take notes.

No paper and pen next to me, no phone – one day I wrote a poem with my phone’s notes app while I was on the bus coming back home – .

After few minutes, the data storage of my brain is chock-full, and the new idea is lost.

Bye bye idea!

When I am at home and I have nothing to do, despite I should study for my exams, I gaze the white paper in front of me, the pen is still there – on the desk -, motionless, as my brain is.

No ideas at all, nothing.

Not a single sign from my neurons; Wi-Fi problems among all my synapses.

What do I really want to write about?

No answer.

A Hobbit story?

Oh no, J.R.R did it.

Ok, let’s reject all kinds of dwarves, dragons, elves… I don’t think I could write a fantasy story.

A story about a young wizard who fights against the most powerful and despicable wizard ever?

No, J.K. did it.

No magic.

History, crime, love, friendship, animals, sport, marriage, funerals… there are lot of themes and ideas to produce, but they have already been written, more than once.

This kind of intellectual illness is called “Writer’s Block”.

At first, it doesn’t allow to you to start a new story.

Then, when you can happily start writing the first three or four pages/chapters, the evil illness comes back and… damn! how can the story go on?

Your characters are still there, waiting to live.

Before I put myself writing these few pages, I had no idea.

I wanted to write, I really wanted to write something, but I did not know what about.

So, I thought it could be a good idea to write about the moment when you want to write, but you can’t do it because you don’t know what do you want to write on.

I am afflicted with this strange and pesky illness called the Writer’s Block, and I am trying to find a cure.

 

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