Words Escape Me

thCAKDAQNYI’ve stopped writing. It’s not a joke. I wish it were, but I can’t think of a freaking thing to say. I’ve frantically read the posts about writer’s block, but seriously, they don’t pertain to me.

I’ve never considered myself to be a writer, so the advice doesn’t apply. Not an honest to God writer like, Norah Roberts or some of the other famous well-known romance authors. I DABBLE with words. They poured out of me when I could write. Not necessarily in a way that made sense, but at least they flowed through my fingers and ended in some makeshift form onto a page. Now, all I have is a blank screen. It’s been that way for weeks, and it’s beginning to freak me out.

Writers tell you to write every day. Sorry, but I’m sick of writing grocery lists or things-to-do lists. Does that count? Is it writing? It’s barely two-hundred words, certainly not the minimum twenty-five hundred words they recommend. I don’t have twenty-five hundred words in me.

Deep down, I knew this would end. I was an accountant. Accountants don’t write. They understand numbers, not words. At least now I have a cause for my dried up brain.

My writer friends try to encourage me. “Write anything,” they say.

“Like what? I can’t think of anything. That’s the problem,” I counter in despair.

“Write one sentence. It will come.”


I open a new word doc and write, ‘Mary loves John.’ . . . I DON’T THINK SO.

“It’s not working,” I lament.

“Then read. It will inspire you.”

So I read. And I read. And I read. Great books and not such great books, but I read. All day. All night. I read until, my eyes blur, and I fall asleep clutching my Kindle.

It doesn’t help. I hate the authors. How dare they flaunt their talent in my face?

“Trust me, you’ll get it back. One of these days, it will be there.”

“Shut-up, you wench.”

I hear laughter. My friends find this amusing. They’re laughing at my distress. They are so not taking me seriously. But it’s better than the ‘tut-tut’ of sympathy.

“It’s back,” I lie. “I’m writing.”

“I knew you would. What’s it about.”

“It’s the best writing I’ve done, ever. It’s a secret.” More lies.

“Can’t wait to read it.” The ‘pat’ response to any writer. I’m beginning to see how fake some of these phrases are. No one can read that many books. Not even me, as I devour at least six a week; more if I don’t fall asleep.

“How’s it coming?” My concerned writer friends ask.

More lies. Always lies. I pretend I’m about to unveil the greatest book since the Outlander series took the romance world by storm. Instead of Mary loves John, I should start with; Claire loves Jamie. Maybe that would inspire me.

I disappear for days. Not literally disappear, but I am absent on social media and messenger. My lies begin to get to me.

I gradually make my way back. I miss the quizzes. You know, like; which house should you live in? Castle, if anyone is interested.

“Hi.” What else can I say? I throw it out there hoping they haven’t forgotten me.

“Hey,” I was worried about you. I called, but you didn’t answer. I thought you were probably deep into your manuscript.”

Oh, God! I must confess. “I scrapped it.” It’s better than saying it didn’t exist. A half-lie.


Outlander has already been written.” I start to laugh. Hysterically. Losing it.

“Oh my God! You need help. Write a blog.”

So I did.

Book cover 9313 029Patricia Hudson was born in Wales, U.K. As a young girl she moved to America with her family and currently resides on a small horse farm in central Illinois, with her husband, David, two dogs, and her beloved quarter horse.
She has written seven books: Stolen Hearts released in 2013. The Call, Love on the Double T, Love’s Deception, and The Exchange to be published in 2014. Also in production are Bear Run and Jana Morgan, PI.
Join her on:
Tweet on http://www.twitter.com@AuthorPHudson
Read her blogs on https://patriciahudson1011.wordpress.com


9 thoughts on “Words Escape Me

  1. You just wrote, and it was indeed good reading. A start? Probably, but so was the grocery list. Would you mind a suggestion? I’ve never seen it listed on the ‘block’ suggestions, and I’ve never tried it myself, but it just struck me. Divine inspiration? Anyway, enter a room, writing utensils in hand, and describe the room. Colors, patterns, light/ dark, fabrics, contents– human, animal, vegetable and otherwise. Repeat as needed with additional rooms until a voice is found. A great story—probably not. But something to loosen the block and let the nuggets roll. Worth a try anyhow. Look at pictures. One picture can spark a 65 thousand word story. Can, being the operative word, not necessarily will. And yeah, regarding quizzes, I got big country house. Keep the good fight going. You. Are. A. Writer.

  2. Enjoyed the post and, goodness, I’ve so been where you are. I’ll make a weird and radical suggestion. Stop reading. Don’t even go online (except maybe to order pizza.) Watch TV but no closed captions and turn off the movie or show before the credits roll. Clean house, do laundry, catch up on phone calls, but do nothing that involves the written word.

    In a few days, maybe a week at most, you’ll probably crave words so much you’ll write your own just to have something to read! I mean, we were all readers before we were writers, right? 🙂

  3. Awesome post…I feel for you, but have no great wisdom falling from the sky. Wish I did. I will say, don’t worry, I do believe the words will come. Not sure how, not sure when, I’m sure it’s different for everyone, but one day…they will come.

    If you build it, they will come! (you’ve already built it in your first novel!)

    Castle? yes please. 🙂

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