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Showing stories tagged with #writer-struggle Clear filter
I stare at my black leather bound book,. Holding back blank parchment,. Next to it there lies my pen,. And then I realise, with a start,. I'm lost of inspiration,. Been pouring my words out,.
I spent years crafting a character, To fit the plot line I wrote, I spent hours on end in paper, Taking every detail to note.
I miss the time when words came easily, when I'd spend my days thinking up ideas and my evenings writing them down.
Poor ol'@Stablish is racking his brains for a poem for me to write. He keeps on suggesting things but the idea isnt right. He's come up with all sorts of ideas but each are a blank.
If I could I would write a poem now. But my inspiration disappears somehow. But alright, I only want you to read something I post. But at night, that's when I post the most. I try to write a thing.
What to write. My inspiration, it's gone. Day or night. I always write two poems maybe one. Why?. Cant I write something good. My mind isn't being creative as it should. Now I am thinking and...
My sea of inspiration is running a little (a lot) dry, I sit with Opuss in my hands and all I can do is sigh.
My inspiration gets to me at night. I want to write but that does not feel right. I am trying to put a word or two. Just to make you read this and make me something to do.
The fire burns deep inside My yearning for to write But deep inside I cannot find The fuel to keep alight.
Inspiration where did you go. Nothing would please me more then for words to flow, Silence does not suit my keyboard. Please come back, please o' lord.
Opuss, you seductive mistress. Unable to write. Void of ideas. Taking solace in a Tub of Ben and Jerry's. No harm in that??!. Fuck it. I forgot. I'm lactose intolerant. Oh Opuss!. How I bleed for you.
I want to write a story. So I sit down with my phone. I'm trying my very hardest. But ideas just won't flow. I know that when I'm started. Ideas will come with ease. But 'till inspiration hits me.
It's going to take awhile before any inspiration comes back. Maybe all the way to hell and some time 'round,. "Cut me some slack". I wait around my thoughts for something to arise.
The man stared absently at the glass of orange juice he'd poured.
Them days when you feel as though you're stuck in a rut, whether you be writing a novel or a poem, drawing or even writing music and you just can't seem to find that explosive enthusiasm and...