Writing Progress Blocked – Now I Know Why.

 

Copyright © Mark R Kelly 2025

Chapter eleven mocks me. I stare at it, it glares back, daring me to hit the keyboard. Quietly I control my breathing, eyes closed. Head bowed, I slowly look up. Chapter eleven sits there smugly, flipping me off, grinning.

I'm losing this one, I can tell. Turning off my pc, I concede another brutal encounter lost. Words and images swirl within my mind as I head out into the garden. The day is conducting its own tug of war between the scudding clouds and sunshine, an invigorating breeze bullies the flora of my garden. 

Time to feed the birds, I guess. If the local Wood Pigeons could speak, they'd be tapping their feet in irritation, "Where the hell have you been? We've been waiting over an hour to be fed!" They regard me with their bobbing heads, eyes calculating my intentions. Knowing the sound of the shed key announces the imminent scattering of bird seed, the chicken-sized pigeons waddle down the roof ridge, eyes scrutinising my every move.

The local bird thugs in the form of Starlings arrive, alerted by the call of a look-out. TV aerials now a staging area for the garden invasion to come, they chatter away in anticipation.

From within the kitchen I hear the microwave beeping. My morning coffee is ready - all milk, as I like it.

THE PENNY DROPS.

Birds fed, coffee in hand, I climb the stairs to my room. A couple of sips on the way up, the aroma of my coffee does something to my brain. Calming, maybe? The taste reaffirms. I sit once again in front of the pc. I sip my coffee and watch the gathering of morning clientele to my outdoor restaurant - Jackdaws, Wood Pigeons, Sparrows, Starlings, Magpies. It sounds like a choir warming up before a major performance, each chirping, squawking, clacking, twittering and jostling for position.

Jostling for position... and that's when it hits. The reason for chapter eleven pushing back, resisting my every attempt at moving forward. Positioning. I nod to myself, and chuckle. Realisation that my subconscious had been working overtime in the background is a lightbulb moment.

Such a simple, simple answer to my problem. I'd been pushing a scene and characters where they didn't belong, and my subconscious knew it, but my conscious mind was oblivious. Like repeatedly hammering at a square peg to fit a round hole. It just wasn't supposed to be there.

And now I sit here sharing this moment, it's glaringly obvious. Hindsight. Fuck it, that pompous, sly little turd that loves to whisper in your ear, "See? I told you so."

RESOLUTION.

Now chapter eleven has a lovely synergy that works, and actually makes for a smoother transition from the end of chapter ten. My original idea just didn't have any place being where I was trying to force it into being. That much is apparent. So now the main protagonist and his best friend have a moment that relieves the tense ending of chapter ten, giving the reader time to breathe, and allows the story to sigh, rest, and gather its wits before moving on.

So, if you're stuck, as I was, stand back. Look closely at what you've written. Is it a square peg jammed in a round hole? Does it need to be there, or would it be better off dropped in later on in the chapter or story? It worked for me, like a blockage removed, and the creative flow is once again free to run its course.

Finally, as is my way, I leave you with a piece of music from the legendary band, Pink Floyd - "Coming Back To Life". Enjoy.