4 x This Week: Help I Hate My Characters, More Ambient Music, Shepherd’s Pie, and a Tongue Twister

Monday. 2:54 a.m. Nearly forgot to write this post. So a-here-we-go~


I’m hitting a bit of a writing wall right now, mostly because of some character things. I may write a longer post about it this week, but for now I’ll try to summarize. Lately none of my characters have been clicking for me, and there have been certain points in time when I’ve just hated all of them. Like, what used to excite me about them has suddenly vanished into thin air. After some introspection, I realized this is likely due to events in my own life—but how so, you may ask?

Well, it has come to my attention that the way I perceive my characters is directly related to the way I perceive people in general—not specific people, mind you, but humanity as a whole. Lately, however, certain people in my life have lessened my opinion of relationships (not necessarily romantic) and other people in general. You know how it is—you run into someone who is so infuriating or downright evil that it makes you want to tear your hair out. So opposite your own soul that you cannot believe they actually exist. So present that it makes you question the sincerity of every other person you have met or ever will meet.

Perhaps that is an exaggeration, but you get the idea. Because of personal issues I am dealing with, the characters in my writing are suffering. And, as you may know, writing is usually a pretty personal experience.

My characters now seem too… optimistic about encountering other characters, whereas I suddenly find myself more pessimistic about meeting new people. This also comes at a crucial time when my main character is supposed to be forming her friendships, and creating lasting bonds—something that is now difficult for me.

For a moment I considered taking a break from writing my main work and focusing on some other side thing, but I felt a little better about my characters today than I did yesterday. Mostly I think it’s just personal stuff I need to sort through.

The most interesting thing about this whole experience is probably that I never realized just how closely my characters were connected to my own state of being. Whether or not that is a good thing, well, I guess I’ll find out in the weeks to come.


Flipping the switch here, I’m always looking for ambient, soundtrack-like music, particularly when I’m writing. Some time ago I posted about jazzhop or something like that. This week it’s, let’s see—“chillstep,” which I guess is like dubstep, but… chill; lofi (lofi hip hop?); and some trap-Japanese mix, which sounds weird (I mean the name, not the actual music), but is good.


I tend to make this shepherd’s pie a lot, using this recipe. Just made one today, actually.


Tongue twister I heard somewhere that my sister and I quote a lot:

How many Lowe’s could Rob Lowe rob if Rob Lowe could rob Lowe’s?



I have writer’s block, so don’t expect a creative title.

I meant to write a more meaningful post last Saturday on Tuesday today, but I don’t think it’s going to happen.

I am teetering on the edge of writer’s block. For a while I’ve been writing nicely, getting stuff done, and the like. My words and I were on speaking terms, and we were so close becoming friends again. But then I hit a chapter that I just thought was horrible. And that’s when it started. Now my brain’s starting to freeze over and I can’t seem to write anything of value.

Even this post seems very… unattractive? Unpleasant. Uninspired. Meh. Something like that.

Up till now I’ve been driving around Writing City in a shiny new convertible at 70 mph, cruising with the top down, feeling the wind in my hair with a freshly opened bag of potato chips in the passenger’s seat to keep me company.

Ignored the red light, kept speeding along.

And now I can see the cars dashing across the intersection in blurs, and my pretty little convertible is about to smack right into them.

About to. As in, it hasn’t happened yet. But I can feel it coming. The canaries have passed out, people. Something’s about to go down in the mine.

And then,


Cue pile of burning car guts.

I am sinking in the mud. I have the urge to write, to make something with my bare hands, to create. But every time I try, it just ends up in a pile of nothing. I feel like shouting. (But I won’t because my family will think I’ve finally cracked.)

I sit and stare at a blank screen, willing it to be covered in words. And yet, every word I write is rewritten scribbled over crossed out flushed down the toilet deleted almost immediately.

I think I need a break.

Maybe I should go for a walk.

I’m becoming very fond of these.

I need some cake.

Yeah, that’ll do.