All posts for the month February, 2011

Chances Are

Published February 24, 2011 by Dorothy


It is incredibly difficult to put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard) these days, and get on with writing my story…even though I really really want to finish it. this one, I feel it really well. I’ve collected mountains of  information on the legends I want to write about. I have created a tangible world, a good enough plot (good for me anyway!) when I am usually hopeless at plotting. I am a dreamy, wandering mind; my writing is a wandering kind of writing. I like my quill to just follow my random thoughts, imprecise, colorful; and then I try to tie everything into a plot, but I’m not an organized sort of person, so I find that part difficult.

But I already have built the skeleton of this particular story, all I have to do now is to flesh it out with words, I love doing that. So I don’t really understand why I’m experiencing writer’s block? Maybe because I’m not travelling. Usually, when I travel, that’s when I’m most inspired, the new people, the foreign cultures, colors, sounds and smells, that fuels my quill. The quiet familiarity of my hometown, a place that doesn’t budge when the world revolves around it, that makes me feel oppressed, and so not creative.

I’m browsing the internet for tricks against writer’s block;any writers who happen to read this, if you have a trick, don’t hesitate, tell me.

 I’m not discouraged, though. I’m onto something, I’m quite sure, and I’m not letting go of this story. Anyway, the travelling starts again soon, I’ll get my writing mojo back, then!

Chances are, It’ll be finished by august.

Check back with me then!

thanks for being around to read all my rambling and a country song for you to conclude this article.



Carribbean blue

Published February 24, 2011 by Dorothy

A pic I took in New Caledonia...

I was sleepless last night though I wasn’t sad.

I climbed to the balcony on the very top of the house and watched the city sleep;
and the city looked pure and beautiful from so far away,it was only a collection of lights and anonymous souls,a bit like a sky upside down;
and the sea was dark,huge and quiet like a monster asleep;

I listened to comfort music and I sang a lonely song to the night and to the stars that winked at me.

Yesterday was a strenght in me;
Today was a refuge;
tomorrow was a puddle I couldn’t wait to jump in.

Last night,you know,was such a beautiful night to be alive.


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