Once upon a time there was a girl who lived, breathed and consumed all things creative, who wrote for hours on end, studied the craft of writing and was even given some papers and letters after her name for doing so. From scripts to poetry, fiction and ramblings, she filled notebooks with ideas, characters, snippets of scenes where the boy didn’t always get the girl, and the fantastical lived next door. But then things changed. She changed. And writing wasn’t what it once was. It wasn’t an escape, her pen leaked, her notebooks stuffed to the back of a cupboards. Her creative juices - dry. She lost her mojo.
At the time of this post going live my word count currently stands at: 0