Once in a while (more a weekly cycle) my mind goes through fifteen ideas of what to write and then slowly trudges through everything that can wait or doesn’t have this feel to it—I write a article daily, but that’s different to writing a piece of fiction that has my hands being smashed by a hammer of unfairness that gets to me a lot. A problem that’s constant for me when I swimming through a swimming pool of ideas (a very cold swimming pool drowning my inspiration) I become partial blocked with the words “How the fuck do I go from here?” and this is bad because it doesn’t happen to me when I’m halfway through or nearing the end—because when I get hold of that one idea that has a streak of uniqueness my mind will instantly create what’s happening, the main character, other characters, plot-twists and anything I know connects up to make sense. But the problem with the whole “How the fuck do I go from here?” is that it comes at me from the very start even when I know what I want to write….it’s just the whole “How do I write it?” because it’s along the way I make minor changes to add, remove or switch around certain elements. I go through bouts of doubt because of it and sometimes I put it down to exclaim “It must wait” and then I go back to something different to help my mind loosen up.

The issue always annoys me constantly from how it hits me for a week, but then the week comes to an end with me scrapping in a pathetic one or two thousand words for the bloody thing….but it always happens and if I know I can write more after “The Week” then I know that I can keep going with it till I reach the end and begin to rewrite and add onto it.

Thor hammer comes down upon my hands for one week and then he forgets about the suffering he’s put me through to give a nod and “Good on ya” sort of thing. I hate “The Week” I’m forced to play the waiting game of inspiration or reason.

Thought of the Day: August 17th:

Snow Stalkers….I know what I want to write. But do my hands reply to the thought I have? Simply, no they don’t.