Skip to main content

The Writing Famine


Colette apologizes, Grace - the original author of this post - has been temporarily removed from this post. Mostly due to the fact that she was not writing anything. Which might have been the point. Since the page is titled "Writing Famine" the page may have been meant to experience a famine of words. In which case it ought to be blank. So Colette will stop writing and allow the page to properly experience a writing famine. There will be no more words.


Colette couldn't do it. She has thought of another topic for this page - what if it was supposed to be about the lack of writers, or about writer's block?
If so, the page cannot be blank!
So she had to write this.
She is also aware that Hannah has covered this topic, and she was talking about the lack of creativity. So, as Jo said: we are forgetful people and need to be reminded of things. Therefore Colette will remind you that you never know, if you feel there is a lesson the world can be taught through your writing, please do not worry too much about how creative your piece is. 
Just write it.
Now about writer's block - the sudden disappearance of words and ideas - there is no discovered cure for this. All you can really do is re-read what you've written, read lots of books, go places, and hope inspiration will strike. 
And then write.
Colette apologizes she said there would be no more words.
 "So sorry."

Signed,
Grace (the original author of this post),
Colette (the invader of this post), and
Germaine (the editor of this post)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Strange One

An unsteady little fox kit blinked, opening her eyes she wobbled after her siblings. Taking her first steps outside the den, watching the others do the same. Their brown-black eyes gleamed in the light. Most of the other fox kits were playing, a tangled mess of dark brown fur and legs as they tumbled, chasing each other around mossy rocks and through short green grass. Some of the older foxes were lounging, gathered around a small circle of rocks. The fox kit stumbled over, her legs still not quite used to the rough ground. The circle smelled fresh, soaked in the scent of damp earth; something clear and silvery-blue filled the hole in the ground. She leaned towards it, trying to get a better look, paws scrambling for purchase on the smooth slippery stones. With no success, her paws slipped, sending her tumbling down into the pool of clear liquid. It was only water. But she didn't know that then. She landed with a splash, the liquid soaking her coat and making her shiver. S...

Ostrich short story

She holds her elegant neck high above the masses which she saunters through. Like a diva at a show she flaunts her plumes, casts a wary eye about for rivals, and turns up her nose at her drab brown and cream comrades.  Behold, an animal of distinction and refinement. Here is the ostrich, queen of the winged kingdom. Around her, antelope bow their heads in shame, cringing at their inferiority. Where she steps the grass seems to wither in embarrassment. Even the sun seems reluctant to disgrace her chestnut and ivory feathers. Stop. Look around. Sour musk lines the brisk breeze. She lowers the foot which was held aloft a moment ago, her previously serene expression now one of incandescent disapproval. The antelope prick up their ears. A glimpse of golden pelt in the grass and an explosion of hooves signifies the beginning of the chase. She runs like a demon, head pointed forward and wings outstretched. Long legs kick up turf, spraying it into the streak of gold fur b...

Can't You See the Shapes

I can see the shapes But my hands can't form them right They're trapped in my mind Why can’t I see the light? Dancing and soaring I forget what's around me Electric body Won’t you do what I do? Come sit in the shade Let the arid world fly by Luscious, dark gray shade Take my hand, come and fly Can’t you see the shapes Our fingers form them right Trapped in our minds Can’t you see the bright light? ~a poem by Gemaine~ ~based on a series of haikus by Hannah~