TRUE Writer’s Block: What to Do Now, After Your Muse Has Really Left (Six Months and Counting)

Folded Dreams, a follow-up novel to my venture into the world of self-publishing, managed to get to about 45% edit-worthy completion. I wasn’t completely satisfied with my work at that point, but I was proud to have at least made it that far! And then, as often happens of course, I hit an annoying bout of writer’s block – so I pouted for a few days, then decided I’d really show my Muse how childish an old fossil can get, and “cut off my nose just to spite my own face”…

Thanks to!

Translation:  I  did what I believe a serious writer should never do for more than a few days at a time – I took a stupid vacation from writing. A couple of weeks should do it, I thought to myself. Just two weeks.

That was about the end of November or first of December, 2016.

As fate would have it (or “Never Disrespect Your Muse”), on the 8th of December I had a pretty serious stroke. Not a “major stroke”, mind (the kind that leaves one totally blind and unable to control one’s bodily functions), but bad enough to have to start from scratch to re-develop the ability to walk and use the muscles on the whole right side of my body to cough and spit toothpaste into a sink, and the dexterity I needed to dress and to even simply keyboard.

Writer’s block just became very real and much more complicated than ever, indeed.

It was necessary for me to leave my home and move in with one of my children; but I was determined to be ready when my muse again visited me, so I had my computer and flash drive book files brought over here to my son’s house.

A couple of weeks ago, I woke up with the urge to write. I thought about perhaps starting that book on stroke recovery which my therapists at Brooks Hospital had suggested. But, no – I wanted to get crackin’ on my novel again. After all, it’s nearly a year over-due for publish.

I plugged my flash drive into my lap top and began reading the existing chapters to the novel, “Folded Dreams”, you know, to refresh my memory as to where I was heading with the story. I really enjoyed re-reading what I’d written so far, mostly because I didn’t “recognize” it…

In fact, I had forgotten nearly the entire thing. Gone. Just. Like. That.


Since that day, I’ve pondered the story, pounded my brain and perused all of my files on story-line notes and research to find anything I recognize. Nothing. Zip. Zilch. the only ‘discovery’ I’ve made is the continued enjoyment of reading a story which, each time I open it, seems like the first time reading someone else’s work. You see, I only vaguely remember having read it at all, no matter how many times I may have done so…that’s how Swiss-cheesey my brain is.

I don’t know how long this phase of recovery will last. I would like to believe it is only temporary, even if ‘temporary’ lasts for a long time yet. All I know is that THIS is true writer’s block, the likes of which can discourage me to the point of throwing in the towel…for good and ever.

But I won’t, even if I have to change the plot to include the protagonist having a stroke and losing herself completely.

Take THAT, Writer’s Block!!

Mini-Post for Miss Meg!!





I feel you, Miss Meg!!

(…and this is just right in front of me…you should see the bookcase to my left, the walls (along with all those taped pages!), television, lamps and even the chair to my right…oh, yeah, not even the fabric chair covers escape all those neat, narrow, sticky strips!!)

Empress: A Survivor Lights a Candle – by Roger Moore

(Another favourite contemporary poet. If you’ve not read him before….you should. pk)


Empress 233.jpg

A Survivor Lights a Candle
During the Latin Mass for the Dead
Before the Main Altar
at the Sanctuaire Sainte-Anne

I am afraid of fire:

 in principio erat verbum /
in the beginning was the word.

 I am afraid of the loud voice of the match
scratching its sudden flare,

narrowing my pupils,
enlarging the whites of my eyes:

 et lux in tenebris lucet /
and light shines in darkness.

Booming and blooming,
igniting the soul’s dark night.

Voice of fire:

et Deus erat verbum /
and the Word was God.

 Flourishing to nourishment,
flames whispering on the flood:

omnia per ipsum facta sunt /
all things were made by Him.

Wool and water,
this sodden safety blanket;
and what of the cold plush

of the pliant teddy bear,
the staring eyes of the doll:

et tenebrae eam non comprehenderunt /
and the darkness comprehended it not.

The lashes…

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RESOLVED!! Harry Potter: Cursed Child is on the way!! YAYYY!!!

 Resolved! the Cursed Child is on its way!!

Resolved! the Cursed Child is on its way!!

Just got off the phone with Amazon Customer Service: RESOLVED!! and my Harry Potter: the Cursed Child is on the way!! Yayyy!!

I’m completely disappointed with our local USPS. The lady I spoke with resolutely refused to take responsibility for what can only be believed to be theft by a postal carrier (considering that the package was scanned as supposedly being delivered to me on my porch…when in actuality I met him at the truck and all he handed me were two VA appointment cards for my hubby and a letter for my grandson).

I was very discouraged when I called Amazon’s customer service and told the representative, Let, my story…including that The Cursed Child was supposed to be my birthday and official retirement present to myself.

But, bless her heart, she not only resolved the issue by issuing a replacement copy, and with one-day shipping…no charge, but also wished me a happy belated birthday and pleasant retirement, to boot!

I am now as in love with Amazon as I am with JK Rowling (as an author, by the way!) and Harry Potter, whether he has a Cursed Child or not!!


UPDATE: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child?

…yeah. The United States Postal Service says Amazon will have to take care of the missing Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. Way to shirk responsibility, USPS.

Newest photo for milk carton: Missing: the Cursed Child

Newest photo for milk carton:
Missing: the Cursed Child


Harry Potter: Cursed Child – my birthday present to me. NOT.

Here is my sad, sad tale, as commented on :

Screenshot_2016-08-08-15-05-46I pre-ordered Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (the very first rehearsal version of the screenplay that was published), from Amazon, as a birthday/retirement present to myself.

I was SO excited and waiting on pins & needles for it to arrive on the 5th of August that I started meeting the postman at the street beginning on my birthday, which was the 3rd! Yayyy!!????


It didn’t arrive on Friday the 5th, and nor did it get here on Sat. the 6th. And my internet was down last week so I couldn’t check on Amazon for delivery/tracking until yesterday…Mon the 8th.

“Delivered Aug 5, left on porch by door.” – that’s the postal notice listed on Amazon. How could that have been, when the mailman never even had a chance to step out of the mail truck to even deliver our mail for 4 days, what with me standing at his vehicle door, blocking him?!

Called USPS. Lady said, “It was scanned in the truck and noted left on porch.”

“Lady,” I said, “I met him at the truck for FOUR days in a row. He never got out of the truck…he did NOT deliver it.”

She: “Sending someone to your street to investigate and ask your neighbours if it was accidentally delivered to them.”

“When will you do this?”

“I’m sending someone to your street now.” (this is Mon. at 12:40 in the afternoon, mind)

Tues (today): have approached all my neighbours…no one from the post office has knocked on their door, no one has contacted them in any other wise, either. Cursed Child is still missing as of mail delivery today.

Called post office today to ask why no one came to street to investigate. Response: “She left right after I got off the phone with you Monday.”

“I sat outside all day waiting. No one came. All 10 of my neighbours will corroborate this.”


(click, went the phone.)

At least I got to read a review. 😞😭😭

Where is my Cursed Child book, USPS? I paid for my birthday/retirement present…Amazon got their money…J.K. Rowling will get her royalties. You even got your money for postage…SO WHY DON’T I GET MY DAMN BOOK??