So lately I've been itching to write. And by itching I mean almost literally. I have plot progress, and I want more, but I can't seem to grasp that next word, that next thing to take it further and make it better. My brain tingles with frustration, and my mouth works to try and form this word. But nothing comes forth, nothing makes sense enough, and so I sit, staring off into space, frustrated. I can see my character Sabby doing everything I want her to do, going with the story (for once in her miserably short life), and yet, I can't move her forward. It's as if she and all the other characters surrounding her are chess pieces that have been glued to the board by a mischevious child. The board being my brain, and the child being that illusivity, that fog keeping my brain from moving my characters forward.
To this I give one big gusty exhale and flip the finger. Screw you, you odd fogginess that's attacking my brain. I've got a new weapon. A new pen. And I'm not afraid to use it!
Today? I have yet to write anything new, but I have found something else to move forward. A different character, a pawn, if you will. And he will make things move forward, when trying to stick with Sabby's POV couldn't.
So, in closing, and to give that foginess the last word, I say "Stuff that in your pipe and smmmoke it!" New pen to the rescue!
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