Writer's Brick Wall.

I can use all the excuses in the world: no emotional reserves, I'm worn out, I've too many committments to find the words... But I have to get past this and push through the wall. Any ideas?

Of course it would help if I had a work space or writing place like this:

*sigh*

Instead of this:

attempting to write her way out of the box:

Some People Have It...

And some people don't.

So, whilst I wanna do this for the amazing Alex over at Whoa Mumma for hitting the 200 mark...

And this...

A part of me also wants to do this...

Because I am...

Now *insert whiny, irritating voice* how come she gets all the followers even after dropping from sight for a while. Waaaaaaaaaaah...

This is the bit where you rush over to her blog and post accolades.

Nothing

I have nothing. Blog block big time.

Muse Wars 5: Storm in a B-Cup.

"Hail thee Bethsheba, Goddess of Purity and Light. Glorify my night skies, reap my bountiful beauty, take me to the inner sanctum of thine holiness. Protect me from the rath of Delimar, God of Darkness and Sin. Let him not taint my sacred right, my virgin choice to walk the path of self-sacrifice. Blessed be thee who protects the female holy chalice of abstainance. Blessed be thee who casts the clouds and shadows away. Blessed be thee who lights my way."

The power pulsed and throbbed within her as the sky danced in terror. She was sure she could hear a growl of frustration echoing in the rumbling roar of wind and thunder.The demon God Delimar was not happy with this unexpected turn of things. He did not like being thwarted by a mere mortal, even one whose family encompassed the pagan cult of Bathynderin and had done for thirteen generations. Kali allowed the blood of her elders to quicken its flow through her veins, driven by her racing heart. She was the thirteenth child of the thirteenth child of the thirteenth generation. Twelve times had this been cast before, twelve times had the thirteenth daughter stood here and cast her chant to the billowing wind and wild skies. Each time a life partner had been sent to perpetuate the cycle, the forever men revealed to them in passion on a tempetuous eve.

Kali knew it was written in the prodigy book that she would be the one. That the power of the bloods would blend and produce one divine chosen vessel for the Goddess to reveal her Earthly visage to. The thirteenth of the thirteenth of the thirteenth generation. Delimar once again snarled his displeasure.

"Oh Bethsheba, Goddess of Purity and Light. Light my path.Cast back the darkness and allow me to see thee in thy chosen form. Anoint me as thy pre-ordained priestess, forever to stand by your side as your earthly guide. Illuminate the way to self-preservation and immortality. Defy the ties of hatred and darkness the wicked God Delimar yearns to bind you with. Send me the LIGHT!"

Upon this last proclamation an unearthly flash surrounded the thirteenth daughter of the thirteenth daughter in this the thirteenth generation of the pagan cult of Bathynderin. The heavens opened and the fields ran awash with cleansing rain. But of the chosen child there was no sign; nothing to show where she had stood arms outstretched only seconds before. Nothing  bar a pair of small smouldering half moons of metal inside a circle of the lightening scorched earth.

Steam arose in sibulant sulking protest as the downpour hit the burning, glowering heat of the halved rings, then the earth resonated once more with a menacing manifest:


"Stupid mortal. Just one more annoying little storm in a B-cup. Mwahahahahahahaha..."




Apologies, forgot explanation and links:
Original brainchild of Melissa, the now aptly named Muse Wars was to inspire anyone who was struggling with a missing muse to write again. Challenge is a picture is chosen, you have around 48 hours to write what it inspires, around the 500 word mark. Whoever adds their link first chooses next challenge.

This one was chosen by Gemma at Sometimes You Just Need to Vent.
 

Hear Ye, Hear Ye...

My follower list seems to have hit a road block. It was slowly but surely increasing but since it hit the sixties it has slowed to a snail pace.

Can someone tell me, how do you increase followers?

 I follow, I comment, I bitch, moan and whine. 

I have gratuitous flashers, nudity, profanity. Well, sort of anyway.

Hell, my randomness is quite unique in its own manic way...










I have cutesy photos, I reveal my inner thoughts to the masses.

So come on cool kids... let me in on the secret?

Challenge 2: Look Not In My Eyes for Fear

HER:
The icy cool of the smooth glass soothed her burning skin for a fleeting moment before the tabletop began to burn with a fire all of its own. It ignited the throbbing of her temple which seemed to echo right through the whole structure, creating a hypnotic drumbeat pounding down to her fingertips. Oh, how she ached to scrape her burnished black nails across the sleek surface but Teagan refused to break the aloof pose. She lay, forehead pressed to her distorted reflection, determined to hold him with her green-eyed gaze. She would not even blink, not whilst he was trapped. The pounding of her heart ecstatically joined the rhythmic chorus as the blood pulsating through her veins leapt to consummate this ancient dance. To the onlooker it appeared she dare not breathe, her very stillness the ties that bound him, frozen. It was a war only one would win.

HIM:
He sat, waiting, watching, willing her to break. Silently his dark eyes beseeched her: "Let me go, free me, give me the chance to dance once more in the sunlight..." Still she gave no mercy, showed no flicker of compassion for his pressing needs. He knew she would not grant him liberty, he could only pray for a fleeting chance to escape. Surely she could not stay encased and motionless forever, could she? Braedon allowed a shiver to break free to ease his fears. The sun would be setting soon and it would all be too late. Would no-one miss him? Was there no chance of reprieve? He swallowed the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him. He would not give her the satisfaction of breaking his pride, he knew it was part of what she craved. Control, domination, debasement. He knew he could not show any weakness, he had to keep his turbulent emotions repressed, hidden away from her piercing stare. With a deep bracing breath he looked through the long black lashes, his malt whiskey eyes tremulously meeting her emerald green glare.


THEM:
She stood, her dark tresses flowing forwards to frame her pale face. He started, too shaken by the sudden movement to try and escape, standing still imprisoned in her burning stare. He waited for the harsh chanted words that would destroy all hope. His breath came in fast shallow gasps, he wanted to cry.

She turned to him, her hand outstretched, her mouth began to move.

"Well, come on shrimp... you win, we'll go trick or treating now. Though I still think going out in the daylight sort of spoils the fun. But I guess you are allowed to be scared of the dark when you are six."  His heart leapt with joy... Who said big sisters were no fun?

Things I'd Tell You - Challenge 2 of the Muse Wars!

As the first to respond to Melissa's challenge I have been delegated the responsibility of the next. Same thing. A blog challenge to the writers amongst us - aspiring or professional.


Again, a pictorial challenge.Tell her story. You have 48 hours to tell us all about this female. SO blog people, whatever your muse or mind tells you to. First to report back with a link gets to pick the next pic or challenge.

Things I'd Tell You Challenge - Walking Away

Clack clack clackity clack... The staccato of her steps eerily echoed around the empty foyer as Claire nervously glanced over her shoulder. So far so good, no-one appeared to halt her purposeful progression to the door.

"Going somewhere?" She freezes like a rabbit in the high beam of a hunting ute. God no. She was so close to escape.

"George? You were sleeping so soundly I didn't want to wake you."  She summons forth her most dazzling smile, revealing her bleached pearly whites to their best effect.Turns to face her captor. "And after our late night," pauses lowering her lashes suggestively, seductively, "Well, I thought you could use some well-earnt rest."

"Ah, my sweet, but why the bag?"

"This? Oh, I'm just taking some of last season's purchases down to the consignment shop. It was your idea, remember?"

"You mean my cutting up your credit cards, and closing your accounts with the designer stores? Or the fact that I had the audacity to suggest you might like to look for employment?"

"Oh George, darling. I know you really didn't mean it, you were just angry with me for my silly splurge." Claire prettily pouted and leant forward to lightly run her peach pink fingernails through the tantalising tuft of chest hair peeking above his unbuttoned shirt. "And I thought we made up last night?" She allowed a becoming blush to shade her already heated cheeks. Pink was so her colour.

The pitiful yelp spoilt the effort as George tightly encased her hand halting movement. He pulled her close, enfolding her against his chest as with other arm he seized the suitcase she held within her grasp.

As he pinned her to him, he deftly opened the clasp on the luggage. Out tumbled the bright array of her new purchases, incriminating tags flashing the immeasurable cost of her addiction. The evidence of her lies flowed across the foyer floor like silken traitors. Claire cautiously raised her sullen gaze to George. Meeting his look of dismayed disgust she knew she had gambled and had lost.

"Oh Claire..."

STOP!

The world - I WANT TO GET OFF!

Now!

Okay, okay - I Did It!

Thanks for all the useful advice in regards to my dilemma. Well, I did it. She parked in front of me at school this afternoon so I hitched up my big girl britches, took a deep breath, walked up and tapped on her car window. She probably thought I was coming to rant over something, it would be a bit odd to find a Mum you don't really know tapping on the glass.

But I did it. I 'fessed up, told her I'd spotted her blog, thought she was pretty damn spiffy, and wasn't some sort of stalker nutter. And told her of the blogs we have in common, and my blog identity.

Hope I haven't spun her out too much...


And no, I won't add a link. It is up to her if she wishes to reveal who she is.

Seriously - Four Blogs? Who Does That? I Must be Nuts...

Yeah, I know. Never denied my addictive personality. Not really up and running fully, but it's a start.

Curious?

It's here. I may take it private, not yet sure. Will decide as I go.

And it does have its purpose, I assure you.

What The?

For some strange, bizarre reason my counter has frozen. Stopped dead on 2678. Since Friday night. Hmph. Not happy Jan!

A Quick Link

to my creative writing blog.

Just in case you want it.

Madmother: Little Woven Words

And now back to our usual programme...

Very often I see other bloggers organising certain days for particular posts. Things like Memoir Mondays or Frantic Fridays. At times I think to myself, "must do something similar", and feel the need to organise this blog a bit more. Then I realise that in no way am I structured enough to manage it. So sorry readers, you'll just have to put up with my disorganised mess.

I will try to keep it light and breezy most days, happily I am apparently back to my old self. Or so I was informed on Saturday night by a source who knows me reasonably well.

So watch out - Madmother is in fine form and looking to entertain.

Wondering Why

there is a deluge of posts in advance?

Well, I am taking a little blog time off over the break. Big Boy is on holidays, Boy 1 and Boy 2 are restless, and I need to spend some family time doing family stuff. And blending... ah, no. Won't go there, will I?

I will be around, lurking, reading, commenting (oi - and where have all MY comments gone to????), and sometimes posting, but I wanted to clear up some committments, and this blog is one of them. I am also hoping to do some creative writing with my stories. 

As big Arnie says:

Sorry, not that. This:

December 21: Project #best09

 What did you start this year that you're proud of?

Gwen Bell

Easy: This blog!

Go read, fill your senses, enjoy. And please leave a bloody comment!