This blog is for all those writers who have lost their way. The ones who need to get unstuck and those who need to get stuck, those who are to scared to try and those who try to be scared, those who need something to help them and those who need to something to help and especially those who are drifting. I would almost say this blog was made for those drifters.
Drifters are writers who are just drifting in and out of writing, not compelled to do it and not compelled to leave it. Hopefully this blog will help you find your way out of the drifting phase. Although some are destined to drift, there are many others who aren’t.
This blog will contain poems, short stories, writing prompts, story ideas, letters that never made it and a whole lot of other little writing titbits that will hopefully inspire you to go ahead and write, complete or start your own.
If my dear friend Fate allows us to meet then meet we shall, but until then,
Know that someone is always there for you,
Your life is like a book. Your first day, was your first page. Your first birthday marked the end of your first chapter, and your first ‘stage’ your first part. You came into this world, to have your story written. And I’m here to tell you to finish it. No, I know what you’re thinking. And I don’t mean as in, finish it now, I mean finish it when it ends. Normally. Don’t let it be you who chooses to end it. Don’t end your book too soon. And no, I can’t really force you not to, and I can’t really force you to stay either, I can’t even tell you to stay here for my sake. No, I can’t, that’s being selfish. I’m telling you to not end it now, because you’re not finished yet. Your story is still going. It’s writing itself now, ‘And then you read this kind of long peice of writing that may or may not make sense’ is what’s being written down right now. And it hasn’t ended yet. The pen is still poised in the air waiting for you to do something else so it can be written down, the paper is still half turned in the corner waiting for the next one to be written, the book is not closed yet. And I know, that some pages seem longer than others, and I know that some pages are marked a little harsher. That their are tear stains. And that their are marking that can’t be erased. I know. But I also know that there are pages that have made you smile. And I know there’s more of them coming. I know that it is hard to keep writing, especially when it gets closer to the page ending and in the very start of the next one. But I can tell you that there are pages coming. Pages where your gonna think to yourself, all that was worth it for just one of these days. And maybe you don’t believe me. But that’s alright. Sometimes I hardly believe myself. But I want you to do something for me. I want you to keep breathing. In, out. In, out. Keep breathing, because with every breath you take, your taking a step closer to a better day. You, my beautiful character are on the way to the good chapters. You’re not their yet, but their just beyond the next piece of paper. So don’t end your story now. Let it end later.
*Apologies for all the little mistakes. I was trying to get it as fast as I could, to not lose the idea that I thought up, but I didn’t sort of get there. Sorry.
A butterfly was caught today,
It’s freedom stripped, all away.
Desperate, lonely, and in pain,
The way we find we are, again and again.
It searched for an opening, and found a rip in the trap,
But it kept getting caught so it had to go back.
Now that butterfly is locked in a cage,
If only she had tried harder to get out that day.
Your new matron sounds like a monster! The way you described her reminded me of Auntie Elsa. Remember her? The one with the big, fat dog that you said looked like a burst sausage. My bet is that she’s just as mean, and just as fat. Boy, you better be careful around that Matron, she might just be a real witch. And about as ugly as the trolls I used to tell you about!
I’m glad that Arkle’s frog is still alive. Tell him to feed him other insects apart from slugs as well, I think the frog would get sick and tired of the same thing over and over, wouldn’t you? Also tell him that I hope his frog doesn’t get to lonely stuck in the tuckbox without him to be held by.
In other things, you know that box you taped to the tree branch? Your sisters made a ladder of rope and various other things to reach it and see what was inside. I remembered that you told me to keep it safe from them so as soon as I found out I called them in because ‘it was getting too dark’. They came in quite reluctantly and it’s strange, Boy, because when they woke up the next morning the ladder had been cut up and destroyed by the ‘wind’. I’ll make sure that if I see anything else happening, the ‘wind’ will come by again!
When I go to sleep, I turn toward you as well, so don’t feed so alone, alright? Somewhere on the other side of the Bristol Channel, your mother’s watching out for you as well.
Study hard, my Boy,
P.S. Your sisters send their love and laughter.
P.P.S I don’t think it was right for that ghastly Matron to drop soap shavings into that boy’s mouth. But anytime you get angry at her, just think of her frothing and spewing up soap and foam, and you’ll feel much better!
Letter Writing: Roald Dahl’s mother to her son.
I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you died,
But I think it’s ok ‘coz I was there for all your life,
And don’t worry ‘coz we’ll be together soon,
Last year, we were walking in the park,
But this time I’m walking in the dark,
But I won’t worry ‘coz we’ll be together soon,
This summer I’m all alone,
But it’s ok coz you’re not totally gone,
You’re still in my hea-a-art.
You were there from the start.
No, in a room, we’re not all here,
‘Coz I’m missing you, my dear,
But it’ll be ok ‘coz we’ll be together soon,
A/N Just a mini song I made up while washing the dishes this afternoon. I didn’t get the ift of singing so maybe you might want to grab the song, make up a tune and start singing it too! If you do, feel free to post it on Youtube and send me the link so I can have a listen. Make sure that you credit me too, otherwise that’s plagiarism (Which is a very bad thing, according to all us imagination users!). Anyone wanna help me make some more lyrics? Leave a comment!
Keep dreaming friends!
We started out in Autumn,
Hottest couple by Winter,
We were breaking up in Spring,
And we were all gone by Summer.
We thought we would last,
Have that High School sweetheart thing,
But then we realized in the dead of night,
That all those stories were only fed by lies.
But I still remember, telling you,
Treasure these hugs,
Love this kiss,
So we can look back and think about this.
Treasure these hugs,
And love this kiss,
So I can remember times like this.
Love hurts. It burns, it blisters, it itches, it pains. It can sweep you off your feet and with the same amount of effort, it can knock you off them too. Love can hurt you.
Love heals. It stretches, it grows, it forgets, It comforts. It can heal almost every type of wound and with the same amount of effort it can cause them too. Love can heal you.
Love isn’t just fun and games, but it isn’t all hurt and pain either. It’s a mix of everything, coming together in a bubbling mix of emotions, feelings, actions and words. But just like medicine, even though it doesn’t taste nice, it does a lot better for you than it does against you.