The Writer’s Departed Groove — An Inky Mess

Your breath whistles through your teeth as you run down the hill, evil horse-monkeys in hot pursuit. You grab a branch overheard, shooting a glance over your shoulder to make sure they’re not quite on your tail yet, and haul yourself into the tree. Just as the foliage covers your cherry-red sneakers, the horse-monkeys gallop past you, shouting something about bananas and payment. You lean against the trunk, praying to whatever divine force might be out there that your lungs don’t actually succeed in ejecting themselves from your body. No one hears you- with your next exhale, your lungs slip up your throat, out of your mouth, and run off into the wide, green forest. You know that they’ll be eaten by apples or butterflies or some shit. Nothing you can do. Either way, you’ll die from asphyxiation if your new lungs don’t grow back faster. 

And…then end?

That’s it? Really, Brain, that’s all you want to give me today for imagination? And Fingers, that’s all you want to type? Those measly hundred words of pure bullshit? You want me to publish a paragraph where animated lungs are a thing that exists?

As for you, writers of all genres (well, at least fictional genres), maybe you can answer me this question: why is it that scenes are such assholes?

Yep, it’s not just the scene above that’s being rude, it’s all of them.

You know how it is. You’ll be writing some cool action sequence, getting your groove on, maybe listening to some rock in the background so you can get your adrenaline going, maybe a little drunk so you stop stressing so much about choreographing the punches; when suddenly, your groove departs. It’s rude enough that it doesn’t even bother giving you some sort of heads up- and it even takes the chocolate with it, so you can’t even stress eat. You are left with a laptop, and getting words onto the screen is like pulling teeth from an angry dinosaur. You check the word count every minute, expecting to see a drastic change…but the numbers seem to be getting smaller? After the tenth minute, you dissolve into a pool of self-pity and tears.

After a two minute crying break, you start writing again, and the cycle continues.

My personal horror scene at the moment is a scene where my protagonist falls into a hole. You’d think it wouldn’t be hard, but describing the sensation of falling, and then the feeling of bouncing on a gigantic net is a little out of my realm of expertise. I don’t know how this goes! Even doing research on how bungee jumping feels, or sky diving (etc…) isn’t helping.

So what am I supposed to do? Step one is done- I’ve stress eaten my way through a shit ton of croutons. My mouth tastes like garlic and stale bread at the moment.

I don’t  actually have a solution- that’s why this is a rant and not an advice piece. It’s pure self-indulgence.

Oh, and a side note: this post is meant to replace the one I’m supposed to post tomorrow. I’m on exam schedules now, and everything is getting screwy. I’m sure all students or previous students can sympathise.

via The Writer’s Departed Groove — An Inky Mess

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