How can you have so many thoughts and so few words to say about them?
I should have been writing blog posts, event posts, website copy, articles … but it’s been a few days since I’ve written anything. I have been stuck, stopped, blocked. My mouse brains squeaks “Everyone else is so much better than me, so why bother?” And my lion heart roars “because I love it when it flows and anyway, I have a deadline to meet.”
After avoiding, worrying and mentally beating myself up, I often find the only way to get back in the flow is to write something – anything. So today my fictional villain is sharing a little tale about how a fat stripy cat and a deal with death helped me slay writers block.
The evil villain
Yes, your happy, kind and loving friend will slay me with the accuracy and precision of a highly skilled assassin. Are you surprised?
To be fair, I was given a choice. We fought over it for days. We tussled down country lanes and squabbled along tow paths. I pursued her on buses and trains and through the streets of London. I breathed down her neck and screamed in her ear while she puffed on her trendy vaping device, pretending to ignore me. At parties with friends and gatherings with family, I stole into each and every one of her quite moments. I was relentless; I was fighting for my life.
She fought back just as hard, in her own inimitable style – she calls it negotiating, though her style is to negotiating what Genghis Khan is to peace keeping. “You can take your psychological claptrap and keep it for your therapy clients”, I told her “you don’t fool me with your NLP”.
Still, she craftily enticed me early one morning while the sun shone and classical music drifted in from a neighbouring boat. As she sipped her third cup of coffee and stared unfocused at the laptop screen, I felt safe and contented. I took my eye off the bloody ball, didn’t I? I let something in.
A fat stripy cat launched itself from the hatch and landed on the keyboard… she laughed, she shoo-ed, she cheered (Eureka would you believe) and her fingers flew. In that moment of chaos the screen came to life and she charged straight through the blockade. I panicked and scanned the screen and there, just beyond the kitty garbage, she was writing about me and I was saying something NICE! I was spitting mad.
“Nice! Nice! I tell you – nice is for the supporting crew love, nice is for the scrawny guy who wants to be a hero. But who is it that makes him a hero? It’s me you stupid cow! It’s me who is the hero maker, the nation builder, the courage giver. I am NOT nice. I am gloriously bad, sadistically sinister, and monumentally murderous. Without a villain you will not have a hero, without war you will never know peace, without darkness there will be no light and without me there is no story.
Go ahead, have it your way you wretched woman – kill me. I choose death, but heed my words, I will be back. Maybe not in this guise and maybe not in this world, but I will be back. You need me. ”
The deal was done. She smiled.
Ahh, that feels so much better! How do you deal with writers block?