A Languid Sunday Morning

Languishing.  Now there’s a good word for an author who has hit the wall.  In fact, it’s almost perfect!  That’s where I am, today, as far as fiction is concerned.

Languish

  1. To be or become weak or feeble; lose strength or vigour.
  2. To exist or continue in miserable or disheartening conditions.
  3. To remain unattended or be neglected.
  4. To become downcast or pine away in longing.
  5. To affect a wistful or languid air, especially in order to gain sympathy.

Fine, let’s be clear right away: number 5 isn’t what I’m about, today.

Number 1.  Yes.  That’s accurate.  I have no energy to be creative, to let my imagination do anything.

Number 2.  Now that’s a natural consequence of knowing that I have a novel that needs to be continued.  And there’s a novelette that’s just getting off the ground, and might might even turn into a novella.

Number 3.  Well, that isn’t actually wrong.  My spark, my imagination has run off someplace and left me stranded, unable to work.

Number 4.  True enough.  And it begs the question: where do our characters go when we’re not looking?  Do they slink off and do things they’d rather do?  Have they decided that we’ve been entirely too unfair, putting them through the mill just to entertain ourselves, without any regard for their feelings?  Now there’s a thought.  I guess it’s related the old riddle of the tree falling in a forest with no witnesses.  I wonder if they go off and party, or maybe just grab some downtime.  Can you imagine it?  Maybe our characters all get together in the local Fictional Characters Café and compare notes on the latest trials they’ve been put through.  I guess the ones who would be least popular with the rest would be those from erotic novels.  I doubt that those who have just been through a meatgrinder battle would be so envied, anyway.

Tomorrow’s another day…

There’s a really stupid remark!  How can it be otherwise?  Still, I guess we all know what the spirit behind the phrase is.  Insufferable, or maybe plaintive, or even self-deluding optimism.  It’s our way of kicking ourselves soundly and saying that everything will come right in the end.  Unless it doesn’t, of course.  I blame fairy tales.  We were conditioned from a very early age to expect a happy ending.  Then we need to believe in it.  After all, why would we do anything if we didn’t?  So, I’ll suck it up, believe the dream, and assume that tomorrow will see me suitably reinvigorated, at least as far as writing’s concerned.  Besides, just how many clichés can I inflict on myself without my head exploding?

So, until tomorrow…

~ Steve

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About Steve

An author since the age of 13 years, writing again dominates my activities. My "Imagineer-ing" blog is my primary site. Also: Beginner knitter since November 2010. Favourite knitting techniques: cable and lace. Beginner cross stitcher. Beginner jewellery maker. With the promotion of self publication and all the other work that has been going on here, Dad decided around 2am this morning (22/11/2013) that it was time to begin his next adventure. He was seen off earlier the previous evening by myself, my brother, my sister in law, and my sister, as well as his wife (our mum), and an enigmatic being known only as A Lorraine. After this time of story telling, laughing, crying, joking and mickey taking, we saw how tired both mum and dad were, and we decided to leave them under the (sometimes) gentle care of The Lorraine. When Dad found the timetable for his travels, he let Mum know gently, which woke her from her drowsing, then, with the same gentleness he showed in this universe, he boarded his favourite mode of transport, the Interdimensional Steam Train, and set off with a smile and a wave. For those of us closest, that smile was a reminder that his pain has ended, and the wave, an indicator that he will pop in to all those that knew him, from time to time. Usually at the most inconvenient and in opportune moments he can. While we are sad that he is no longer here, we are happy he now has no pain, and is experiencing more extraordinary things that his writers mind will be frantically weaving into a new story. Posted by Son Damien

4 thoughts on “A Languid Sunday Morning

  1. I think many of us writers know your plight well, Steve! If we get stuck creating, it may be that we lack sufficient input. So take some time to step away and soak up the world around you. Maybe engage in something you wouldn’t normally engage in. It often surprises me where inspiration will come from.

    Good luck! I know you’ll return to creative bliss soon.

    • Thanks Phillip 🙂
      Turns out I was on the slippery slope to a migraine – yuck! Hours of the day lost! Ah well, c’est la vie 😉
      Mind you, I have hit that wall at other times. Definitely no fun…

      • Yikes! Sorry to hear about your migraine. I’m lucky enough to not suffer from them but my mother-in-law does and they are, as you say, no fun. Hope you feel better soon.

      • Thanks Phillip 🙂 Took a sledgehammer but cracked the migraine by 10 p.m. 🙂 I’ve had them since I was a kid, but they’re getting sneaky now, so they’re harder to spot coming. I sympathise with your mother-in-law!

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