what happens after writer’s block

I know that I’ve been wanting this to be a travel and fashion blog but I also love writing novels (a shout out to those that read the about me section and already knew!). Anyway, I’ve been dealing with a lot of writer’s block – it’s been YEARS since I’ve been able to get back into writing – but I feel like I’m over it. So, I’d like to discuss what happens after writer’s block.

I do have to start out saying that I feel like writer’s block, for some, is an obstacle to hop over. For others, it’s there to prevent us from writing terrible novels.

I feel like I’m part of the latter group.

To be honest, I haven’t had a great idea since the first book series I wrote. It’s still the one that I’m most proud of.

And it’s not necessarily because of the writing; it’s because of the story that I told. I was in love with that story. I couldn’t wait to share it with the world.

It came out so quickly; I felt like I was bursting at the seams with words and phrases. Each line quickly turned into a paragraph and the paragraphs became chapters. I wrote the first book in one week.

Of course, it took five months to edit.

But I did it – FINALLY!!

Of course, the novels after the initial three weren’t as good – at least, I don’t think so. And things began to change. I wrote less and less. The words took longer to form and the ideas didn’t feel right. Eventually, I stopped writing.


The idea that had been brewing in my mind for years has finally given me a reason to write it down.

So…what happens after writer’s block??

You get super excited about a character, theme, or idea.

Yep, I got super excited about Olivia, Isaiah, and Eli. These are three of the main characters that are part of the newest idea that I have.

As usual, I ALWAYS write about is light v. darkness, and this book is no different. There will be light. There will be darkness. There will be adventure…and there will be love.

YAY! All of the things people love rolled into one book – who knew, right?!

You get sucked into specific bands/kinds of music.

Sooooo…I’ve been obsessing over Starset (again) recently. In all honesty, their songs are the book. The themes, emotions, and ideas painted by their lyrics grew the idea that was inspired by a love for my first novels.

I can’t stop listening to them now and, on our most recent road trip, I forced Adam to listen to a few of their songs.

You write a killer hook – and YOU SHARE IT.

Not gonna lie – I’m super excited about the way this novel starts. And, I’m even more excited to share it with you. The text below is a ROUGH rough draft. Please take note that I have not read over this or edited it in any way.

And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for (for years, I might add) a glimpse into the newest world that I’m attempting to create:

PS: It’s okay if you haven’t been waiting for this.

Thirty-six stories up. That was where the air started to feel clean again. No wonder why houses in the sky were valued, dreamed of, sought after. Olivia felt better up here, more like herself than she had felt in some time. But she wasn’t up here to chase something; she was here to forget it, and she was desperate.

From where she stood, she could see the dark city streets below and the starlit sky. From far off, she could even see the halo of light from the falling sun. The city seemed so small. What once towered over her shrunk, the buildings tiny compared to her vantage point. The lights blurred together, little collections of nearby lanterns colliding, creating the illusion of something greater. Even from this height, the rush of speeding cars was deafening, their engines revving and tires squealing as they sped around corners and rushed through red lights.

It was beautiful; Olivia had to admit it. But it wasn’t worth this.

It is worth it. You’re worth it, the voice on her right said.

The voice on her left laughed, a deep, low, rumbling snicker, but didn’t argue.

As the familiar tightness of unshed tears gripped her throat, threatening to spill over, Olivia shifted, her fingertips grazing against the concrete ceiling as she moved into the very center of the marble bannister. She straightened herself, standing tall so that her palms pressed firmly into ceiling; as the breeze caressed her face, she closed her eyes, leaning forward some, leaving the security of holding on behind.

Don’t do this, the voice on the right begged.

Olivia turned to the left, waiting for that voice’s response. It was silent, and Olivia thought, for a moment, that it was her voice and that the other, kinder voice was from someone long ago, someone from a memory.

I don’t order, the voice on the left said in response to Olivia. I don’t encourage. I tell the truth.

The voice on the right interrupted. That’s an outright lie!

Sensing that the voice on the left was gathering ammunition for a response, Olivia screamed, her voice echoing into the night, the tears finally bursting through her walls and tumbling over her cheeks and down her face, some falling onto her bare feet while others slipped past, falling until they hit the ground.

The voice on the right pulled in a quick, nervous gasp while the one on the left chuckled, clearly amused with the argument that Olivia was quickly losing. Olivia shook her head violently, her left arm slipping off the concrete in her attempt to kick the voices out of her mind.

Stopping suddenly, her limbs frozen, she turned, overcompensating for the slip. As she tried to readjust herself, her right foot slipped off the marble banister, her toes curling around air in an attempt to grip something, anything.

Olivia screamed as she fell, and it was in that moment that she realized she didn’t want to die, that she didn’t mean to do any of this. That feeling of numbness that she carried with her for days dissipated, leaving behind the raw emotion of someone in pain.

With the momentum of her prior movements, Olivia managed to spin so that her back was to the city. When her palms slammed into the marble, she dug her nails into the solid stone, dragging them across the surface until her fingers curled around the edges, stopping her.

“Help!” Olivia shouted to no one. This building had been evacuated for weeks, the inhabitants no longer able to afford their rent, not with the increase in taxes.

Wishing that time could turn back? The voice on the left whispered.

“Shut up,” Olivia said through gritted teeth. She lifted her left leg, trying to grip the side of the building to lift herself up; there was no way she could hold on much longer. Her palms were sweaty. Her fingers were already slipping.

And where is that other voice in times of need?

Ignoring her inner monologue, Olivia pressed her weight on her foot, throwing herself up so that her forearm was pressed against the marble banister.

You can’t do it. You’re too weak, too tired.

Olivia growled and released her other hand so that she could lift herself up completely. But the voice on the left had been right. She was too tired, too weak. Her foot slipped and Olivia’s chin slammed into the banister as she fell back down, her arms stretched up toward the sky in the same way a child lifts his arms to be picked up.

Stars formed in Olivia’s eyes and everything faded.

At least she wouldn’t be awake for this, she thought as she let the darkness take over.

Soooo….WHAT’D YOU THINK?!?! I know that some of you don’t comment on other posts but it would mean the world to me if you let me know what you thought of this first (unedited, of course!) part.

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