In December 2017 I began to write a novel. It’s something I have always wanted to do but never had anything to put down on paper. One day I was driving along listening to movie/TV scores and daydreaming, a plot line started to form with each new piece of music. I decided that there wasn’t any harm in spending some free time just putting my ideas down on paper. When I got home that night I lay in bed, scrolling through Spotify, creating a playlist of the music that inspired me. It could be from Lord of the Rings and Transformers to Two Steps from Hell, anything that got my creative juices flowing. Once I had a strong playlist, I sat at my laptop, put my headphones on and began to type whatever came into my head. To begin with it was very broken extracts consisting of a couple of sentences each, but I had started it! I was over the moon, that I had made the decision to do it, and that words continued to flow through me onto the screen.
Six months later, I am pacing my garden frustrated that the words are not flowing through my head like they used to. One fist in my hair, the other clutching a wine glass as if it is my god damn lifeline. The novel now consists of a couple of chapters, and bigger broken extracts but there is a much better structure and content than half a year ago. Whilst I’ve always heard of writers block, I never thought it could be this infuriating. Knowing that you need to get from paragraph A to B but there are no words, no sentences forming. Everything I end up typing, immediately gets deleted because it either doesn’t fit or I am just rambling on. Nothing new is coming into my mind, I’m stuck in limbo.
So now, to combat this horrid block I am going to retreat to my happy place, accompanied by my glass of wine, and listen to music in the hope that I get slapped across the face with some awesome new imaginative ideas.