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I’ve now found that the best way overcome this is to continue writing. Sounds odd that to counter a massive attack of “writer’s block” I carry on writing, but I’ve found that the secret is to write about something totally different.
Like a few days ago. Do as I liked I just couldn’t get my creative juices flowing, so I saved what I had written so far and began writing about Soozi Young. Actually her name was Susan Young but she liked to be called Soozi and she was one of my high school friends/girlfriends.
I think we were both about fifteen at the time and she lived with her gran in a large, gloomy house a few streets from where I lived. Soozi was a free spirited teenager with wide spread sparkling eyes and she totally exuded a charismatic charm that I found irresistible. She also had a delightful little backside that filled her blue jeans to perfection, leaving no room except for my imagination.
We had quite a large circle of friends, girls and guys and it was accepted among all of us that Soozi had invented her own past. According to her she lived with her gran because when she was still a baby, her folks disappeared without trace during a holiday in Egypt. Edie Abbot, Soozi’s best friend, told me that Hope Steven’s mom told her mom that Soozi’s mom had indeed disappeared. Only it wasn’t in Egypt and it was shortly after she’d left her new born daughter with her own mother. Nobody seemed to know anything about Soozi’s old man. Of course we never said a word of this to Soozi cos best friend’s just didn’t do stuff like that to each other.
I’d often seen her at school but oddly enough the first time ever had a real conversation with her was when I was taking a short cut home thru the churchyard. I spotted her walking in my direction, zigzagging between the gravestones and I think she was actually pretty glad to see me cos it was late afternoon and the sky was overcast and gloomy looking.
At the time I remember she was going thru her “Goth” phase – pale face with black eye liner, lipstick and nails … black short skirt, fishnet stockings, Doc Martens, the whole nine yards.
She came up to me and we said “hi” to each other then she goes: “I’ve seen you at school you’re in Hope’s class I’m Soozi with a zee Young and you’re Jamie Jones.” like all in one breath.
“Yep that’s me.” I said and offered to walk her home. Then we became friends and later boy and girlfriend.
The first time Soozi invited me to the gloomy house to meet her gran was quite something. The old lady had dry, orange coloured hair that stood out from either side of a middle parting and which clashed alarmingly with her long, purple dress. Her pale face shone and her thin lips were a scarlet slash above her pointed chin.
She introduced herself as Virginia Somerset-William and peered intently at me over her gold rimmed spectacles causing me more than a little discomfort and embarrassment. Soozi later explained to me that a fortune teller had once warned her gran and she believed, that she would be attacked by a man with only one eyebrow and a bouquet of gladioli tattooed on his neck.
Despite her appearance and distinctly Bohemian lifestyle Ginny, as she insisted I call her, was a Cordon Bleu chef and I was very often invited to the gloomy house for lunch, supper and even sometimes for breakfast. I think part of the reason for this was because I ate like a horse while Soozi usually just pushed her food around the plate, sometimes prodding at a Sole to see if it was really dead. During and after such meals, Ginny would entertain us with tales about her own childhood and upbringing.
She was raised in a home where children were for the most parted looked upon as ungrateful, miniature adults. Her folks repeatedly travelled to India or Mexico or some other exotic destination leaving their offspring in the care of one or other family member. As a result their lives were nor exactly filled with love or warmth and she loathed both her mother and father. When her mother died quite suddenly and her father blew his head off with a shotgun, she wasn’t “unduly fussed” as she put it.
“Both my parents were wealthy barbarians.” She observed.
According to Ginny, she and her two sisters were left quite a lot of money and she was “adopted” by her late father’s eccentric sister Sarah Leale. Then when she turned twenty five and gained control over her inheritance, she said she married a man with the unlikely name of Bibby Plott who was six years her junior and as she put it; “brimming over with charm.”
It turned out that Bibby, whom Ginny described as “most beautiful” wasn’t able to consummate their marriage which was consequently annulled. It turned out, she explained, that he was actually a pretty toy boy who had been passed back and forth among the god-mothers of the local gay community.
The gloomy house was itself quite a fascinating place. In the hallway facing you as you entered the front door, was the largest mirror I seen to this day. Bevelled and mounted in a thick, carved Mahogany frame, it practically covered the entire wall.
Soozi said that when she was a kid the mirror frightened her. She claimed that when she stood in front of it the reflection she saw was not her own, but that of another girl about her own age who continually beckoned to her.
Two large cane seagulls hung from the high out of reach hallway ceiling. From one angle they looked like birds and from another like Spitfire fighter planes and when the front door was opened the breeze made them move, so that they looked like they wanted to fly away to some distant rattan beach or airport runway.
During the time we were together Soozi herself told me some pretty amazing things. Like one Saturday afternoon when we were discussing some really like deep stuff and she goes: “I’m the third twin J … did I ever tell you that before?”
And I go: “No. What is it?”
“The third twin is the star-child and the keeper of the key-link.” She answered.
Now I know what I said about Soozi inventing her own past but by this time she’d finished with the Goth trip so she was just like any regular teen of the time. So when she spoke about this tuff I never once cracked a joke or laughed or kidded her. I listened and asked questions … like: “How do you know you’re the star-child?”
“I know.” She said confidently.
“And what is a star-child?” I wanted to know.
“Want me to explain it all to you J? Okay then. It all started when the First Ones travelled across the universe coming up for seven millennia ago.”
“No, not the Who,” she replied with a wide grin, “they a rock band. Now if you don’t stop interrupting me I’ll never finish. It’s a long story J.”
“Okay, Now probably because at that time most of earth was inhabited by dumbasses, they chose Egypt as their base. The north and south were still separate Kingdoms, it was that long ago. The First Ones were made up of not one, but two inter-stellar peoples who had for many years waged war against each other. They had only recently ceased hostilities and the mission to earth was a joint venture to cement their peace treaty. You still with me J?”
"One hundred percent enthralled Soozi.”
“Good. And so began the colonisation of Egypt. The First Ones actually wanted to use the earth as a sort of inter-galactic base from which they could launch exploratory missions even further into the universe. Well what happened next totally shafted that idea. Opposing factions within the alliance fell out apparently because there was a suggestion from some members to use earth as a place from which they could harvest slaves. Thankfully the enlightened among The First Ones managed to overthrow the rebels and all except their leader were put to death. He was put into some sort of cryonic sleep in a pyramid they hastily built.” She paused then continued: “I know what you wanna know J … why didn’t they just kill him too? Right?”
I nodded. “Right Soozi.”
“Sorry but I don’t know either. Anyway when they eventually left earth, the First Ones left many of their people behind. The first God-King of Egypt who united the two lands as well as the first High Priest and Commanders of the military, were all from the Enlightened Ones …”
Anyway that’s when I got my Mojo back and by this time my creative juices were flowing real strong and I went back to my novel
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- Joined: Sun Aug 14, 2011 6:08 pm
You are a very creative writer and it seems taking your mind out of context with what your novel is about to a different place is a great solution.
And I liked your story too!! Especially the part about being the star-child. :-6
Keep writing Baby!