The Invisible Wall

Does anyone else have an invisible wall? I seem to and I hate it. I can have a wonderful idea for a story or a snippet of one that pops into my head, I start writing it and then bang I bump into the wall and I can’t seem to do anymore. The same happens with poetry, though not as often and that too frustrates me.

This doesn’t just happen with writing for me, but other things too. You know that old saying “I’ve been meaning to do that” or “I’ll do that after” But after never seems to come around and then you get annoyed at yourself for not doing it? It’s like my can’t be arsed syndrome is in full on sulk mode and nothing I do seems to change it.

I am contemplating a complete rewrite of one of my old stories, I have finally done the prologue and I have looked at a couple of pages but I can’t seem to get passed page 4, no matter how I try, I’ve gone to bed early to focus on it but find myself picking up my phone for one more game of something, anything to distract myself from the task in hand.

I am also thinking about my fantasy world almost constantly but when it comes down to writing it on paper, its like I have forgotten how to write. The ideas, the characters they are there in my head but it’s like they are refusing to come out and play.

The computer which makes life so much easier and quicker seems to be a nemesis. If I try and write anything directly onto the computer, I get very little done and have to go back to note pad and pen which means I tend to write everything out at least twice. Don’t get me wrong this is a good thing in a lot of respects because I can tweak things as I go, but then it takes so long to make any progress!

Does anyone else get this? Or is this just me? A unique Maryism that only I can resolve if only I could be arsed?! I would love to hear your thoughts on this and any tips you have for combating the internal strike happening in my head.

If Only

If only I was taller, I’d be such a confident girl

I’d go out there and show the world

dressed up and give a twirl.

If only I was prettier, I’d get all of the guys

Walk up to the sexy man in the room

And flash him a shapely thigh.

If only I was fitter, I would run wild and free

Around the world and back again

And still be home for tea.

If only I was wiser, I’d save a bob or two

I’d have a house in Tuscany

and maybe Timbuktu

If only I was slimmer, I’d still fit in that dress

I’d strut my stuff in my LBD

and all would be impressed.

If only I could stop wondering

What simply could not be

I’d not be such a worrier and

have more time for being me.

By M J Fletcher January 2016