This is not the end of the story

So this blog has been a very long time in the writing. Writer’s block is a horrible thing (as my last blog many months ago eluded to) , it has kept my muse prisoner for a very long time. However there has been a shift over last few months, it was by no means back more like escaping every now again, slipping me secret notes through a chink in the wall, reminding me it is still there. Now I feel like I should give my muse a name, after all we have been together on and off for a very long time, so it seems fitting I should give it a name and for some reason “Bob” keeps popping into my head.

Daft as it seems I feel like it is “Bob’s” way of setting himself free. He is giving me the answer I need to free him from this prison he has been in for months. Perhaps by giving him an identity, I am able to find him again? Because now he is no longer just my muse. Bob is a living breathing character in my own narrative, instantly I start thinking what would Bob like to do? what would he eat? As I sit drinking a large cup of tea, I begin wondering, would Bob be the kind of person to drink tea by the bucket load? Or would he drink something more exotic?

Maybe Bob would be a herbal tea kind of guy? (his body is a temple…that kind of thing) And just like that Bob appears and he is not alone. In giving Bob his identity I have some how freed both Bob and those other characters that had been stolen from me, those words that refused to be written are now shouting at me again to pick up my pen and paper.

It almost feels like that well known scene in the Never Ending Story when Bastian gives the child like Empress a name, only it’s me shouting Bob’s name through a rain soaked window and after that?

Well like some dramatic scene in a film..I see myself running..picking up a very large mallet and smashing that wall down that has separated us for so long, never to let anything take him away from me again, because I know Bob. He is one of my characters and I have the power to keep him alive now. I am the writer of my own story and his, and I am far from out of ink.