Writer's Block (page 2)

snowbird

I came of age in a house similar to this one.

I read voraciously and would dream about having larger, spacious quarters filled with books.

CoCo's writings remind me of that dream.

Syl

AWAKE&WATCHING

Hey CoCo! I love to read ANYTHING you write........

compound complex

I read voraciously and would dream about having larger, spacious quarters filled with books.

Thanks, Syl, for the above.

I recall out in service 40 years ago coming upon a Victorian home on "mansion row," a lovely treed avenue on a bluff giving onto the Pacific. There, clearly evident through the plate glass, boasting literary richness, were floor-to-ceiling fitted cases. All I wanted to do was invite myself in and sit and read!

CC

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Oh, hello there, A&W!

Thanks so much for saying that. It means so much to me.

!

CoCo

JeffT

Since I have about four projects going at once, if I get stuck on one I can work on another. My home office is packed with stuff related to what I'm writing about (mostly historical fiction).

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Good advice, Jeff.

Thanks!

CC

ziddina

Oooo, Gregor!!! Good find! That is indeed the way I picture CoCo's study...

CoCo!!! Writer's BlocK?? YOU??? Naaaah, even on your 'off' days you're more creative than many of us put together...

Zid

Quentin

If mult-talented one could move back and forth. I love doing photo shop art, yet haven't done a picture in months. Tired, not inspired, look at blank pad. So it goes as I wallow in my uninspired zone. I've turned to writing as a way to get around the mental block. Sometimes you have to back off and do something, anything to get that creative ability working again.

You paint CoCo, paint something, post it here. We all need to be told how well we preform. As to your writting, you have a way of burrowing down deep into the subject, letting the tapresty of the story rise to the top and wash over the reader. It will come back. A gestalt will strike and off you'll go.

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I lose all track of time.

Immersed in Dickens or Hawthorne,
I cannot readily shake off the dusty
Antiquity of a bygone era.

However, its scant reality inhabits
No actual space but that between
My two ever listening ears.

Hot blood pulses anew within fingers
Thought stilled forever in a writer's
Grave of unwritten verse ...

A reluctant awakening to a life much
Sadder than that endured by story-Book friends who do not see me.

Allow me, therefore, to reenter that
Precious twilight betwixt my here And the past, their faraway there,

No more to suffer a tortured life
Deprived of friends rendered
Immortal in ink, on paper ...

compound complex

Oh! Thanks so much, Ziddy and Quentin.

I was putting up I Lose All Track of Time and missed you!

What you say is true and we just have to go with the flow. Your encouragement is inspiring!

Love,

CoCo

Writer's Block

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