I named my blog Writer’s Block because I couldn’t think of anything besides “I’m Insane” or “Jelly Beans Taste Good.” Little did I know, the title would come back to haunt me.
I am writing a novel. My characters used to flow out of my mind like water down a downspout. I’m not sure that’s a very good simile, but it is what it is. Plus, it was either that, or a peeing analogy.
I was chuggin along for a long time, but I stopped writing for a couple weeks when life got busy and I kinda forgot…it’s practically a SIN that I forgot. The ultimate sin. If I were Catholic, I’d be hailin’ Mary all over the place.
But I’m not Catholic, I’m just a writer whose characters hate her.
Female main character: Has fallen out of my brain.
Male main character: Well, I’m too in love with him to let him screw up. But he has to screw up, or the book is complete crap.
Main character’s friend: Is driving me nuts.
My characters hate me. Whyyyyyyyyy?
I’ll tell you why. Because I neglected them for almost 3 weeks. What kind of author am I? I may as well have abandoned them on the side of the road. Or killed them all off one by one. I may as well have given them all STDs. I may as well have sent them off to war.
Maybe I should bribe them with chocolate. Or let really good things happen to them (to trick them) and then delete the good things after I extract some life out of them. Because my characters are flat. How dare they?!
This blog post was an attempt to shake the writer’s block (and the cotton fluff – Winnie the Pooh reference, what’s up!?) out of my brain. I don’t know if it worked, but at this point I’ve begun telling you about my life so much that I might as well babble on about my obnoxiousness (and my stale cornflakes).