This is a pointless post, but feel free to despair along (or tell me about your writing projects)

Heyo!

I feel like I haven’t heard from anyone on wordpress in pretty long. Are you guys still here? I hope you’re doing well.

Me? I’ve been frustrated, haunted by an unrelenting writing/ reading slump. The rest of my life has been chaotic and overwhelming, but in times of quiet I still feel desperately stagnant. I’m too busy to pick up a new hobby, and the very little free-time I have has been going into keeping my sanity intact. It’s a period that will pass along, so until then, I’ll keep my head up.

I’ve talked about this quite a few times here, but I miss having something major to work on, a big project or a long story, that, although challenging, does not confront me with the unbearable stress of my creative bankruptcy.

But what about you, reader? Is there a craft in your life that makes it a little easier to wake up in the morning?

Two thousand friends and another update you don’t really need

Hello!

So my blog’s hit two thousand followers recently. Thank you so much! I have been doing none of you justice, but I genuinely appreciate your time and kindness. There’s really nothing as gratifying as knowing that someone’s enjoyed what you’ve created, so I’d still be happy if just one person cared to read this blog, but I guess I’m two-thousand times as grateful now.

Currently, I’m as writing-blocked as I always have been. My last post, Soft callings , was actually written as part of a twitter activity. I asked my followers to send me emojis and used them to write tiny stories. This was my favorite.

(I have around 10 more requests but I’m so creatively bankrupt to the point where I feel like a joke saying that I write for a hobby)

Have a great rest of the day, friendos 💓

Short Story: The Greatest Show

“It’s not right,” she tells the Ringmaster, a fire in her eyes evident even to me. I saw it once before, in the eyes of my own kind, when my mother and I were taken. “What we’re doing is not right.”

She’s in a little dress that shines, and she’s a fierce one. The expression that she wears when the masses arrive is nowhere to be seen. There is fire in her eyes, and it only grows hotter when the Ringmaster gives her his back, and, led by his belly, leaves the tent.

I think people see more colors than we do. I cannot imagine more colors, though. But does it enthrall them the same way our obedience does? Is that why we’re ornamented when the masses circle us, with rags on our backs and jewels atop our heads? Their noise is overwhelming, always, and their flashing lights are, too.

Oh, but I know better than to defy the keeper. See, my mother did that when I was hurt into discipline; she was later hung by a rope. I didn’t know what that meant, but then she never moved again, and it didn’t matter how much I called for her to.

So now I know that when I’m told to stand on a raised piece that can’t carry my four feet, I should stand on two. I know that fighting for the family I left in a wide grassland far away will only lead me to a noose.

I don’t fight. But she does, the human in the little dress that shines. She tries to convince the Ringmaster, then she tries to convince the other humans. I hear her voice become loud against our keeper, and I know she is fighting for us. She’s a fierce one.

But she fails, and curls on the dirt under the sky by our side. I don’t understand it, because the show is over, and she should be inside, sleeping with other humans. But I touch her head, once. She looks up, and there’s no fire in her eyes anymore.

She rises, and maybe I upset her, but I don’t feel that. She stomps away, and I consider the noose. Would it really be so bad? But no, I trust her. She fights for me.

She runs back after, and the expression she wears for the masses is back on again. But it’s genuine now, a “smile.” Human affection is an odd thing, but I still understand it. She holds her body close to my trunk for a moment, and I feel a fast and steady thump. “It’s going to be all right now,” she tells me. “You’ll be set free.”

Farther away, I see it. The fire in her eyes found its way to our world, and it is growing. It is glowing, in colors I have never seen. The fire in her eyes is consuming the tent, glowing as it eats away at our home.

She set me free.

Downs and downs

I’ve been in a complete writing slump.

With both my magazine column and my story, I’ve only been drawing blanks.

The words won’t flow, and I’m starting to think that I could be the least creative person on this planet. And to make matters worse, I’ve been unable to even look at my own writing, trashing ideas, notes, and my self-confidence every time I open a draft.

As for my column, I decided to go with a more scientific topic, which will give me less space to be cringy. Did you know that 2021-2030 has been named the Ocean Science decade by the UN? The little nerd inside me is ecstatic.

But my story, well. I hate it. Not the concept of it (it’s a piece of sea fiction with a strong female lead. Wait, I just noticed the ocean theme overlap), but where I’m going with my plot (spoiler: nowhere)

And yes, the setting is difficult to write and needs an awful lot of research (and the consumption of even more nautical fiction, yay!) but friends, what even is storytelling? The number of dead-ends and their discouragement companions that I’ve met over the past several months is sad.

I tried storytelling guides and plot-building tools, but I’m still struggling. And sometimes, it’s better to receive a direct point of view. I know that writers face this, and the more experienced ones have overcome plenty of times.

So, let me know how you break your way out of a writing block that feels like it isn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. Please?