My Thoughts on Writer’s Block or A Conversation Amongst My Imaginary Friends

Today as I was driving home I started analyzing my recent bout of writer’s block. It occurred to me it wasn’t actually so “recent”; I haven’t written anything (except a few blog posts) in about 6 months. Right now it feel less like a mental block and more like a deliberate set of malicious tactics being performed by my characters (read: imaginary friends). During that drive I imagined this scene…

“Quick – shut the damn door!” Jaycen shouted down the hall. Waves of anger fairly pulsed from him as he strode through the small house, searching for missed entry points.

“What the hell? I just closed the front door again! How’d the back door get open?” DJ stepped from the stereo to the back sliding door and shoved it closed with a sneer to the outside.

Muffled voices could be heard through the door but nothing distinct drifted outside. Then the voices became clearer and louder again.

“…old adage, one door closes another one opens.” Reese’s voice had the edge of forced laughter but no one else laughed with her. Her big blue eyes closed as she scrunched her nose in disgust at her own phrase.

“I’ve never liked those types of clichéd phrases. They’re just annoying.” Jaycen’s derision was palpable even though he was speaking from another room.

“They’re clichés for a reason. And, apparently, sometimes when a door closes it’s a window that opens.” Annie’s clear sweet voice was the loudest just before the window closed.

A tapping on the glass made them all jump. And the window eased up off the sill and their voices could be heard again.

“Dammit. She’s like the fucking T-Rex out of Jurassic Park! Staring in on us, hoping we’ll do something she can record.” Tyler swore a few more times but the sound of his voice receded as he walked down the hall after his brother.

“Turn out the light and don’t move! Maybe she IS like the T-Rex and without movement she’ll go away.” Kit was always the practical one and her advice seemed to make sense.

The room went dark and everyone froze where they were for many long minutes. Finally, a huge gust of window blew through the still-open window, knocking over several beer bottles and pushing the vase of lilies to the floor.

“Are we expecting a storm?” Alyssa’s quiet voice filled the space and everyone shot her various versions of dirty looks. “Sorry!”

“No. I think that was a sigh. A pretty big one. I think she’s frustrated.” A bit of regret pierced Reese’s voice. “Maybe she’s giving up?”

The front door flew open and banged against the wall, a small round dent appearing where the door knob punched in. A tall handsome stood in the doorway, his arms full of building supplies, his tan face shadowed by the grey Stetson on his head.

“Koty!!” Reese joyous shout at seeing the cowboy brought Jaycen back into the room, a scowl warring with a smile on his equally handsome face. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Hey, darlin’.” Dropping the supplies by the door, he swept Reese into his arms and held her tight. “I’ve missed you.” He whispered in her ear before he let her go, his lips grazing across her temple.

“Well, the crazy lady sent me to Texas! I know it’s my home and everything, but damn I was just stuck there! No idea why, no idea what would happen to all y’all, it was crazy! I had to find my way back since she stayed up here trying to get in.” Koty stared out the window, barely controlled anger simmering in his eyes.

“Well, you’re back now. What did you bring us?” Jaycen’s possessive arm drape over Reese’s shoulder reminded everyone of the boundaries previously setup.

“A bunch of blackout curtains, wood to bar the doors and there’s a heavy grate out in the truck to cover the fireplace.” Koty sorted through his wares, handing items to various friends as he did.

“A grate for the fireplace? Do you think that’s J.K. Rowling out there?”

“Nah. This one is more into triangles than anything diagonal.” Kit’s weak referential joke received weaker laughter as the friends dispersed throughout the little cottage. More minutes passed as they barred the doors, locked and covered the windows and essentially locking down the house from outside entry. Jaycen and Tyler brought in the grate and set it up by the fireplace opening.

Before the front door closed once more, the friends stood on the porch and looked forlornly at the sad lonely woman outside. Reese was the only one to speak directly to her.

“I know we share similar names and that’s what first connected us. I liked you. You listened well when I needed to talk. But I didn’t realize you were a writer. And now you’ve shared too much of our lives with too many people already. There were some very intimate and private moments in there. Good, bad or completely evil, those were our moments and you’ve exploited them. So, we need you to go away now. We’re going to stay in here for a while and you can stay out here. Go on about your own life and leave us to ours. Make up stories instead of stealing ours. Go away, crazy writer lady. Go. Away.”

They all filed back inside and the door closed with frightening finality. I stood staring at that blue door, not sure where to go or what to do now. These had been my friends, my confidants, my faithful muses. And they’d just shut me out. Seemingly forever. I stared at that door in disbelief. In pain. In horror. In complete and utter fear. I truly did not know where to go without them.

The ring of my phone made me jump and I pressed it quickly to my ear. Maybe I had a friend on the inside…literally.

“Don’t say anything.” The masked voice whispered darkly in my ear. I shivered, knowing who this was. “I’m in the house. I’ll let you know what you need.”

The voice went silent then I heard a series of shouts, screams and even a muted whimper that I knew belonged to Alyssa.

“Hello there.” The voice carried through the phone as the caller greeted those inside the house, his presence previously hidden from them by some ex machina method.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Jaycen’s anger poured out the earpiece on my phone and I winced as I imagined him squeezing Reese’s hand as restrained himself.

“It’s your own fault you don’t know who I am.” His maniacal laugh sent shivers down my spine even as I rejoiced at still having a line into their lives. I could only pray no one would be hurt before they let me back in for good. I realized he was still speaking and keyed back into the conversation.

“…the ones that locked out the writer. She was the only one who would have revealed who I am and how your story ends. Only she could have determined whose ending would be happy…and whose story would simply be ended. Now, because of your own actions, I will forever be…

A Stranger.”

About T.A. Babcock

Writer, artist, mom, special project manager, MS Office Goddess, beautiful dreamer, randomly eccentric lady. (Not necessarily in that order...)

Posted on August 6, 2015, in Writings and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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