Blastoise, Penguin Suits and Tricycles

So many people say that they suffer from writers block, or struggle for inspiration. Ideas can be hard to find sometimes, especially ones with originality. Well I say look no further than the end of your nose! And today was a perfect example, of looking for all the stories just ready to leap out at you!   My youngest Squish, got her first bike today. Proud mommy moment and she couldn’t wait to try out her new wheels. All prepped with her retro shiny red tricycle, kitted out with helmet and gloves to match, my proud little Squish was soon on her way, racing round our local park.   Gentle stroll around the park, whilst participating in Squishes new found favourite past time ‘Pokemon hunting!’ Yes, I admit it we’ve been at it, our guilty pleasure of exercising and tracking down imaginary animals that we catch with small balls, that conflict with every animal welfare law going. Anyway I digress, squish was leading the way on her shiny new wheels, as I followed at a close pace. It was then that it happened.   “Are you looking for pokemon?”   Not a hello, or a how are you. I drew squish closer as this random male approached quite awkwardly with his opening line that was followed quickly by.   “If you want to follow me, I’ve found a really rare pokemon. It’s over there” he pointed “by the road, just next to that large blue van”   I felt like a small child being led away with the promise of sweets by a stranger. But yes I followed slowly...

The guilt of murder

Yes as the title suggests, I am openly admitting my guilt. It is eating me up inside and I just can’t keep it bottled any longer.   I am a murderer.   So far the total is at 3 but it could be as many as 6 or even more in due course. I must say the first was the hardest, I almost couldn’t bring myself to do it. But I did. It was for the greater good after all. The guilt is etching away at me though and with each subsequent murder that follows I find myself feeling more and more guilty and responsible. Well technically I am responsible of course, I murdered them, but i’m finding its bothering me more than it should. I mean its not as if  they’re actually real. Well to me they are real, I created them, but to the outside world they never really existed, not in physical form anyway.   Killing characters in any story can be necessary for plot development and progression. But these aren’t just characters on paper to me. I’ve nurtured them, i’ve supported them and i’ve watched them grow and flourish (figuratively speaking of course.) I feel a connection and loyalty to them as they’ve helped me grow and learn as a writer. We’ve had adventures together and we’ve conquered the impossible. So of course each time I kill one, I feel an immense wave of guilt, like I’ve cut one of my own limbs off (drastic I know, but true). You see when we write and we throw ourselves so fully into our writing we create...

Writing and Rambling

I write … a lot. In fact I write every night for many hours often falling asleep as the words form on the page. Most of my writing will never see the light of day, so why do I do it you may ask? Well there’s several reasons for it to be honest, but the first is my deep dark secret. I have an addiction. Yep you heard me, I have a problem. Not something most people would admit to, but yet here I am opening up to whoever is reading this opening admitting I have an issue. I am addicted to writing. It doesn’t actually matter what type of writing, the topic, the subject or the length. I just find myself writing in the strangest places, at the most awkward of times. On the school run, in the bath, making dinner, the urge just pops up and before I know it I’m scribbling away lost on a daydream losing myself on the pages. A lot of the time I’m not sure if it’s even classed as writing or rambling. But I know that it is a cathartic release that soothes my soul and helps empty my overflowing mind enabling me to to sleep at night. That isn’t my only reason for writing though. As I said a lot of my writing will never see the light of day, some of it may remain unfinished for eternity. But by allowing the words to flow freely across the page as I feel they need to, they create a web of expression and release enabling me to grow, learn and explore not...