Friday, 28 August 2015


Scenario 1 –
You’re feeling creative, so naturally you take your place at your desk, laptop at the ready with a fresh word document open. The curser blinks warily at you, waiting for a sudden jolt of energy to push it along the line you are about to write. But nothing happens. The curser blinks patiently; you tap your finger on the desk, impatiently. Nothing happens; your ideas never existed in the first place, what made you think you could create them now?

Scenario 2 –
You have an idea. In fact, you have many. You run up the stairs two at a time, sit down at your squeaking chair. Your laptop flies open and a new word document is opened. The curser blinks. You look down at your hands, your fingertips are moving slightly with anticipation. But nothing happens. After a while, you look at your word document. You have half a sentence and an emotion. Everything’s gone. The curser blinks, still.

Scenario 3 –
The curser blinks, watching you. It has done for almost three hours now. But you don’t notice, for your eyes have blurred and the pixels on your laptop screen have started to merge and suddenly your consciousness kicks itself and you become aware, again, of the words you still haven’t yet written. The curser blinks. Again.
In one of these scenarios, possibly, on a rare occasion, something different might occur. You might start typing, your long fingers subconsciously moving across the keyboard, forming words you haven’t yet processed in your mind. They work ahead of you, with your mind trying to catch up. Words are typed to create sentences. And then those whole sentences bunch together to create paragraphs. The gears of your mind whirring, your fingers rapidly moving, black pixels being splashed across the once lifeless page; creating. Spilling ink across the page, creating a mark that stains the page with meaning. You take a breath and pause. And you read over what you have written, secretly hoping, pleading, that your words were not just your breath of thought, hoping that your words breathe meaning, allow the reader to disappear from their physical existence for a short while. The curser blinks while you read. Finally, you’ve turned blood into ink.

*Disclaimer - please don't use/edit my work without my express permission and please don't share it without it being credited and sourced back to me...*

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Friday, 14 August 2015


This summer I went on holiday to Sicily.
After finally getting round to downloading the photos off my camera, I thought I would create a photo diary of the holiday. It was a lovely week and Sicily is such an incredible place; the weather was lovely as was the food and the people! xx
Roman Amphitheater - Taormina 

The beautiful view from Taormina

A friend <3

Pizza - Il Tocco Pizzeria

Crystal clear
Mount. Etna
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Friday, 7 August 2015

Forgotten Creativity I A Lost Cause

I haven't been writing.
In January I started the 365k365day challenge. The idea is that everyday you write 1000 words; so that by the end of the year, you've written 365,000 words. When included into the daily routine, it creates a forced creativity. Even if what you write is rubbish, at least you're writing something. Even though I knew I could never write 1000 words a day, I liked the challenge's principle of writing daily.
Like I said, I haven't been writing... 

I haven't been reading.
In June I created my Summer Reading List. It's August now, and I haven't read any of those books. In fact, I still haven't finished reading the book I started in May! Last summer I read ten books.
Like I said, I haven't been reading.

I haven't been doing anything creative.
I like to make jewellery, I like to play the violin, I like to paint pretty nail art designs on fake nails, I like to read, I like to write, I like photography. Which of those things have I done this summer? None of them. My creativity has blown out the window, I don't have the will to do anything. Writing seems like an old pastime rather than a much needed form of self-expression. I still haven't read past chapter 17...

All I want to do is sit in bed all day, watching Netflix, avoiding human contact, escaping the real world. Forgetting that I have a summer to experience...

My thoughts are scrambled, as are my words. I have no short stories to publish, I have no books to review. What was supposed to be a summer full of creativity and new projects has morphed into something very bland. As I said to a friend the other day, I feel like stagnant pond water; doing nothing; with no true purpose...

I'm going to leave it there, I already feel as though I've said too much. But I want to leave you with this video I watched earlier, I like it and I think you will too. xx

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