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Dealing With Writer’s Block

Dealing With Writer's Block
Dealing With Writer’s Block

Writer’s Block is when you are stuck and not have any thing good to write about. What I am dealing with is somewhat different. I have so much to write about, that I am not able to figure out what to pick next for writing.

It’s like whenever I sit down to write something, normally I would have visualized the starting content by then, but today, the moment I start writing, my mind goes blank. Totally Blank. Not even a sentence or a word.

Dealing With Writer's Block
Dealing With Writer’s Block

Instant I will leave my writing table and would stand up to do some other work (mostly to settle down a intensive fighting session between my kids), ideas will start flowing, along with that visualization thing I told you about. :O

At first I thought, let’s start writing standing up. Maybe, I am sitting for writing that is why I am not able to write (weird right!!!). I was so wrong. It didn’t help. I even tried it lying down, took a nap instead (all thanks to kid for rescuing me from a peaceful sleep πŸ˜› ).

Then I thought of writing down something on paper, and not on my laptop. I have heard that some still prefer to write using Paper and Pen. How cute? I also loved writing this way, when I was a kid. Not anymore, it’s just a hassle to upload it or transfer it to blog later.

Dealing With Writer's Block

Still, I decided to write on paper. First thing, where is that damn Paper? I have to go through my Kids stationary and bags to find one piece of nice Paper. Working pens?? when was the last time I saw a god working pen? Oh, my husband has stacked all the pens high in cupboard, so that kids won’t get hold of them. I don’t understand, Why my kids are blamed for everything that goes wrong in my house? What do they have to do with breaking of pens?

Dealing With Writer's Block

We will discuss Kids problems later, first I have to find out a pen. So, my hubby has stacked them up high, so high that I have to get help from my elegant yet fatty and quite heavy Chair, to reach the Pens. Got them, finally!!!

1 minute, 2, 5 minutes… almost 10 minutes…. No, I can sit that long without doing nothing. Scrap it. I am not writing anything now. My inner voice is so angry now. Shouting and screaming (only inner voice, not me, not my fault).

Dealing With Writer's Block

Then I got this brilliant idea. Let’s write about, why I am not able to write? Or, what I am going through? Cool!!!!

Don’t curse me. Yeah, I know I have disappointed you with all my blabbering, but I enjoyed it. It’s fun to write about ones frustration. LOL…. why did I use the frustration word πŸ˜›

 

 

Along Came A Spider

Along Came A Spider
Along Came A Spider

 

A thrilling, fast paced novel filled with gory details., but this is not all which can be said about James Patterson’s famous novel β€œAlong Came A Spider”. For the lovers of thrillers and psychotic characters, this could be among the best choices, but if you are not very fond of insane characters, than go take a nap instead.

 

This novel takes a very good start by building the very gruesome foundation for our psychotic character Gary Sonezi, who starts off by kidnapping and killing an infant mercilessly. You can guess easily what he is capable of doing, if he starts his killing spree in such a sick way.

 

To match this psychotic killer we have our very own hero in the form of Alex Cross, the famous homicide detective who is determined and passionate about his work. Main plot starts off with kidnapping of two kids, one girl Maggie Rose and her friend, Shrimpie asΒ  known popularly . What makes this kidnapping, a crime of the century, is the fact that both the kids belong to the affluent families, one being kid of a celebrity and other one of treasury. In-fact the kids had their own personal bodyguards assigned to them by the secret services for protection.

 

Alex Cross is assigned to solve this kidnapping, along with Jezzie, from the Secret Services, who later becomes his love interest too. The mastermind of kidnapping, Gary Sonezi is shown as a cruel and devilish person, who has no remorse or soul, indeed he is a brilliant plotter who is always two steps ahead of Cross and whole bunch of secret service personnel. He comes across as one who makes backup plan, of a backup plan. Still he was caught in a very dramatic way. Later, however it does looked like, that this was also a part of his terrific plan.

 

Their is one interesting twist to the whole story, when even the kidnapper got duped by some opportunists. Incidentally Gary Sonezi, trustsΒ Alex Cross to solve the final mystery more than himself or the police. Their is also a dramatic turn of events with a double personality disorder, which was actually being shown marvelously.

 

Now, coming to the points where this novel lacks, is number one it is pretty boring in the second half. It seemed to stretch beyond a point making it dull and heavy. At one point you just want to put down the book, but you are hanging only to see if Gary received the punishment he deserved. Romance is exaggerated and in such a boring taste. You can yawn easily between the love making sessions. They talk as if no two lovers or even normal persons talk to each other. What disgust me about this novel is the Racism card, which was played over and over. Their was no such need to glorify it or to make it such a big deal. It was like getting distracted by something which is so out of place for this kind of a book.

 

Only thing that this book needs is a better editing.Rest, it is a marvelous story told beautifully.

What My Kids Want From Me?

 

What My Kids Want From Me?
What My Kids Want From Me?

I was watching β€œEverybody Loves Raymond” (yeah, I still watch the reruns), lying leisurely on my couch. When abruptly my daughter Tisha declared β€œMamma, I want something”. Something as in something to eat.

Boy! There is nothing more terrifying than this ‘something’ word. Something means they are not sure what they want to eat. Off course, they don’t want a proper food food. So you have to go through the whole charades of showing them everything you have, and asking them one by one, if they would like to eat that. Most tiring thing is you will always hear no, till the time you feel like crashing on the floor.

Having no other option I asked –

Me: you want egg?

Tisha: No.

Me: Chicken?

Tisha: No

Me: Biscuits?

Tisha: Noooooo

Thankfully, Otu (My 2 yr old son) came to my rescue.

Otu: Grapes. Mamma, grapes.

Grapes given to them. I came back again to my dearest couch and resumed the show. When….

Otu: Mamma, plate.

So, now they want grapes in separate plates. Given. Few seconds passed, I sat and….

Otu: Mamma, spoon.

Now, who eat grapes with a spoon? Well, looks like my aristocrat son Otu does.

Spoon given.

One minute passed.

Β Otu: Mamma, hanky.

Β Even when he is eating grapes, that too with a spoon, he somehow managed to get his hands dirty. :O

Wearily, I said β€œGo ask your Papa. Why didn’t you guys go to him? He is also sitting here. Call him.”

BTW he (my hubby) was also there, just sitting quietly with his laptop, doing nothing. As always. Giving me ‘The Look‘ on hearing his name.

Β Otu: (again) No. Mamma, I want hanky.

Given. Sigh….

Me to hubby: Why can’t they ask you for everything and leave me, at least for 5 minutes? Why don’t they come to you?

Hubby: because, you are lucky. πŸ˜›

(He meant it sarcastically, believe me.)

I started thinking, was I like that with my mother? I remembered my mom saying to me umpteen times, how I have never let her sit for a moment. How I was always calling her for my every little needs. I didn’t went to my Papa, even when I wanted something from him. I always went to my Mamma first and then she used to take my case forward to Papa. I was not scared of him, he is not at all scary :). It was just that I always believed my Mamma understand what I want much better than anyone else. She was my first person.

Back to my lucky phase, my kids. I realized, how they come to me for their tiniest needs. When they are hurt, or happy, or just showing off. They will scream Mamma, and suddenly it will be the only thing that would matter to them, to get the desired reaction from their Mamma. To see, how she kisses their fake wounds and heal them, or to see how she laughs with them, or admire them each time they learn something new. I realized how much it meant to me, that they are calling me first, and not their Papa or to say anyone else in this whole world. Just me. I am the most valuable parson of their life. I am their first person.

I am lucky. πŸ™‚

And, what do they want from me? Well, Everything.

A Diva in Making…

A Diva in Making
Tisha – A Diva in Making

I was on phone, when I heard the sobbing. It was Tisha, my soon to be three year old girl. I put down the phone, excusing myself, and rushed to the kids room. (It’s a very good excuse though, to put down phone and save yourself from long boring phone conversations.Β Oopsie!!! spilled my secret. )

Coming back to my girl, Tisha. She was crying in her room with her hand covering her mouth. She is full on drama, and when she wanted to add some extra special effects to her crying, she would put a hand over her mouth and nod her head slowly, in every possible direction. Even if there will be no tears, she will close her eyes and pretend that she is crying hard.

This time she was really crying(with tears), actually sobbing, with her hand covering her mouth. 😦

I was confused, as to why was she crying? She doesn’t looked hurt. Even boys were asleep in their room. No one to hurt her or tease her. Then why?

So, I asked her.

Me: What happened, Tisha? Why are you crying?

Tisha: I don’t have any pant.

Me: What?

Tisha: I have no pant.

I looked at her cupboard, which was all upside down by the way.

Me: Who created this mess? And what happened to all of your pants?

Tisha: I don’t have any pant. (this time louder)

I picked out a black pant from the mess, which was a neatly foiled clothes rack earlier. By the way, she has more clothes than both of my boys have combined. Still….

Me: You wanna put on this black one?

Tisha: No. I don’t like it.

Me: (Picked another one), You want to try this red one.

Tisha: No. I don’t like it. I want new pant.

(Crying more louder now)

Tisha: I have no clothes. I want new.

Me: blank………

 

She finally agreed to wear one, but only when I promised to buy some new clothes for her. Good thing is that kids forget about promises very soon, bad thing, my girl is growing fast, and soon she will be a three year old lady.

God, help me, and please send some cash next time along with your blessings. πŸ™‚