I haven’t written in over 2 months. I haven’t even been inspired to come up with a single poetic syllable. It feels like I lost my mojo or my muse left me high and dry. But then again, I do think of writing every day. My heart, my head and my fingers twitch every second.
I keep telling myself, maybe I’ve finally experienced what they call ‘the writers block’. At least I’d like to think that’s the problem. But something tells me its more than that. I’ve been known to over think things and over-analyze every situation. I guess this is one of those situations huh? Maybe it is, maybe it’s not, who knows..
All I can say is, I lost my Mojo and it’ll be good to find it in someone’s ‘lost and found box’ somewhere somehow. I started this blog to get my poetry out there, and it’s been a beautiful experience, but then two books later and I’m wanting more. Not just poetry but J. K Rowlings’ kind of deal.
I started working on a sci-fi book last year but somehow my storyline keeps taking different forms. I find myself constantly comparing the plots to something I’ve seen in any sci-fi fantasy movie I watch lately, and In a bid to be overly creative and different, I end up wearing myself out.
However, for the last 2 months, it’s been completely silent in my head. No new ideas for a scene or plot. Not even a poetry line comes to mind. Then today I heard someone use the phase “Fake it till you make it” and it got me thinking. Can you fake your way through creativity. Can you have poetry without the passion and emotion? or can you create that masterpiece of a storyline without your creative juices flowing or while your ‘Mojo’ is still missing. Perhaps it takes discipline.
I mean I’ve had to fake an orgasm multiple times just to get it over with, but I never thought it was possible to fake creativity just to keep going???? Is it really possible?
Not saying anyone really does fake creativity and I know what you’re probably gonna say next is; “It’ll come back to you when it does”.. but what if it doesn’t? Is this what happens to dead dreams? You hear about people never getting to make their dreams a reality and you cant help but wonder what happened. Or you hear about one hit wonders and you wonder how they ended up in the archives of time and forgotten memories.
I know I’m over thinking the simplest of things again, but I cant help but think. I really do believe I may have been a Greek philosopher in my past life.
That being said. Thanks for visiting my blog. Be sure to buy my book here —> (Poetry My Love) and follow me on Twitter @GloriaE
I’ll try to write a little more often. Hopefully my Mojo will find its way home again 🙂
It should be a beautiful day in spring last i checked, but the sky was blood-metal red and the air sat stale and heavy. The ambiance of danger was so palpable i felt a tinge of unease as the cold air crept up my spine causing me to shiver. I rubbed at my eyes as if my still-half-sleepy yet conscious sight might be playing a number on me. Surely it wasn’t sunset yet? At least not by my watch, as I glanced quickly at the time. It was 7.35am. Great! I muttered. I was stuck in traffic on the gloomiest day on planet Earth. Things could be a lot worse than morning traffic, I thought to myself. Perhaps a sandstorm, blizzard or tornado may be approaching? Dang it! I should have checked the weather channel before leaving home. I was in such a rush to head out of the door after waking up an hour later than usual, that I didn’t get to do any of my morning rituals. Still, nothing could take away the feeling of satisfaction I went to bed with last night. My mind quickly wandered to the amazing time I had with myself.
It was my 12th year anniversary with Dorian. But we had parted ways 3 weeks prior. And after 3 straight weeks of non stop crying and wallowing, I had decided it was time to move on. My determination to make the best of our break-up was well underway, and i was making a conscious choice for once in 12yrs to put myself first. It was time to bury all the pain and heartache i had been going through for years. Last night, like Dama said; was Day 1 of the rest of my life. A new chapter in the pages that was Gae Noel’s life. I had ordered take-out from my favorite restaurant, rented a romantic movie and brought out the best wine in my pantry. I knew what I wanted now. It was time to love me the way I wanted to be loved.
The movie turned out to be a great choice, and the candle lit dinner created the calming mood i needed to totally cleanse my emotions. The food was pure bliss. It tasted so scrumptious, my taste buds still tingle with excitement just from the thought of it all. At the end of the meal, i was beginning to feel comfortable in myself, and my emotions towards me were those of reverence. I was pretty good-looking for a 43yr old who ran a Fortune 500 company. I remember the multiple opportunities i had to flirt with the many gorgeous men who came my way, but i didn’t out of respect for Dorian. Perhaps it was time to flirt with myself, maybe get to know my body a little better.
I had some chocolate souffle for dessert , then headed to the bedroom that was once mine and Dorian’s. The king sized bed did feel lonely after he left, but tonight it would be my Haven for unimaginable pleasures. I lit the ylang-ylang scented candles, had low volume Jazz music playing in the background and slipped into the most erotic red and black laced lingerie i could find. I remember getting this particular lingerie as a romantic gesture for Dorian, but tonight i was ready to be enthralled in every possible sensory pleasure my body was capable of dishing out while clad in them.
I slowly and gently caressed my way down my entire body, feeling and savoring every contour,and every inch of my curvaceous light olive toned skin. I felt, fondled and lovingly touched myself for what seemed to be the most blissful span of eternity. When i couldn’t hold back the yearnings anymore, i decided to take it up a notch and move things to the bathroom. I had left the bathtub running with some bubble bath. As i slipped out of my lingerie and into the bathtub, the smell of warm Amber, Eucalyptus and lavender created an intensely calming effect that i could literally feel every pulse in my veins as the blood in my body pumped its way towards my head. The Cedar Wood Essential Oil i left burning also created the perfect aphrodisiac to enhance every sensory receptacle in my mind and body’s nerve endings. I lay there sweetly taking in every beautiful breath and relishing the moment as much as i could. I reached down between my legs and inserted 2 fingers into my ‘honey pot’. This time i wasn’t aiming for a short-lived orgasm, i was aiming for euphoria.
My thoughts were quickly jolted back to the present by the intense screeching scream coming from the lady in the car 2 feet ahead of me. Hailstorm! Great! i thought. Then the hysteria started. everyone was getting out of their cars and running. The screams got louder and even more intense. Suddenly there was that strong pungent smell. It was the smell of ash and sulfur. It was the smell of death. I looked closely, this wasn’t hailstorm, it was raining meteors. All at once i started to feel hysteric, angry, sad and lonely at the same time. The thought of death had never crossed my mind. I couldn’t breath. I reached for the door to get out of the car. Too late. A large meteorite struck. Blackness! It was the beginning of the end for Earth…
They say a picture says a thousand words.. Well I guess I’ve found a way to extract 15 thousand words from 1 picture and keep this fiction writing thing exciting and immensely enthralling.
As a kid, art was my obsession. From graffiti to animation and sketch, I could draw anything and everything. However, my lovely parents seemed to think it was a waste of time and a nuisance. So I did stop drawing just to please them….
Thanks to modern-day technology and the almighty App Store, I’ve found ways to indulge my obsession for art and animation.. What’s better though Is; my mind seems to have found a way to stare at a single picture and tell an entire story..
All I can say is; Art is beauty and beauty is art.