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Writer's block can be deadly. I mean sure, there's ways to conquer it; accomplished writers will tell you to write without stopping, paying no heed to whatever nonsense you spew out because hey, at least you're writing. But see, my problem was OCD. My stories had to be constructed in my head from beginning to end before a single drop of ink hit paper, and when I couldn't figure that out, writing became work for me. Work led to apathy, and well, not a lot of stories would get finished. Not until someone, or something, I guess is more appropriate, kicked my ass into gear.
"Andrew, you awake yet? C'mon, we don't have all night."
"Wah? Yeah, yeah, I'm up--" I had never heard the voice prodding me before, and yet I reacted like I had some deep, familiar connection with it for a while now. I groaned as I struggled to push myself upright, my eyes taking a moment to fully come into focus. I found myself laying across a couch in what looked like a waiting room. Shelves with leather bound books lined every inch of wall while in front of me stood a single large desk littered with papers and writing utensils; they didn't look like they have been used for a while. "Wait, this isn't where I fell asleep."
My head snapped around to the side in the direction the voice was coming from and my jaw dropped in disbelief. The figure before me was a lion, standing upright and with an air of confidence in a leather jerkin while a sword dangled from his left hip, "You. I know you. You're..."
"Dragdell Proudmane, that is correct Master McLay." The massive feline nodded patiently, the leather in his clothing tautening around his shoulders as he crossed his arms in a salute, "It's an honor to finally meet you."
My head spun as I pushed myself up out of the couch too quickly. Dragdell quickly sprung an arm open to catch me while I teetered but I shook my head, "It's fine, I'm fine." I sighed and peered back at him, "But you, you can't be real. I wrote a crappy story about you for a creative writing project back in high school for God's sake."
Dragdell made a deep, wholesome rumbling that sounded like amused laughter as much as a terrifying growl. He carefully reached around me to throw a stern paw on my shoulder as reassurance, "Rest assured Master McLay, my adventures were grand indeed. Your storytelling abilities as a bard were merely still ripening then. However, I'm afraid I am to speak with you about more serious matters. I do not have enough time to answer your questions since time in dreams waivers; what may only seem like minutes may actually be hours and daybreak may yet arrive in your own world."
"So I'm in a dream?" I asked while staring at the bookshelves with curiosity. Everything felt too real to be a dream, "Does that make you just a figment of my imagination? Subconscious? Something along those lines?"
My host's mane flowed as he shook his head slowly, "I have not enough allowance to explain. Allow me your trust that I am very much so real, albeit in a different way than corporeal in your world. As for where we are in this dreamscape, we are in your own mind. Your own creative spark, to be exact. I wish to show you something. Come." His tail flicked idly while the bookshelves slowly vanished and a single door materialized in their place. Dragdell opened it and stood halfway through before turning around. "Well?"
I couldn't help but look a bit surprised by this. Normally door opening would seem like a mundane action, but on the other side was nothing; pure blackness. "Are you sure I can follow?" The lion nodded and with reluctance I followed.
He stepped aside to allow me through before closing the door and pitch black gave way to the tolerable dimness of a well lit night sky. My eyes glowed with awe as I stared upwards into the stars while Proudmane rumbled in amusement yet again, "For someone so taken aback by the clockwork of the cosmos, I must say, your work lacks much focus on it."
I half answered with an excuse, "I had ideas. I just well...never had any ideas on how to complete them is all."
Dragdell's sword sheath clanked against the metal buckles of his boots as he spun around to face me, "And that is exactly why I must speak to you, Master McLay. As you trust by now, I am alive and real, as are all the others you have written about in your stories. I was fortunate enough to have the tapestry of my tale completely woven, but many of my comrades are not as blessed, sadly. Their memories are shattered at points where you stopped writing, affecting their identity entirely. This part of your mind is where they rest until they, and you find who they are. I am their caretaker until that time arrives. Come, I'll show you."
The door behind him reappeared and opened on its own. Beyond it laid a room that was different than the one we had previously come in from. It was littered with tables and at each table were various types of art supplies, but that wasn't what was interesting. Characters I had written about from every age, every genre, every setting, every point of my life were all together in this room at various tables. "I encourage them to express themselves in art." The lion explained, "It helps them remember the memories they �do--have while hopefully discovering new fragments of their undiscovered story."
I tried to think of something to say but I couldn't; I was too stuck wordlessly staring at all of my creations under one roof. They didn't seem too excited to see me either. Not that they noticed me though, they were all preoccupied with their projects in front of him. Dragdell approached a table with one occupant and ushered me towards him.
She was a girl of about high school age, human, unlike Dragdell, and in front of her was a large pad of paper littered with messy crayon drawings that had a childlike innocence to it all. "Tina, I have someone special here who wants to meet you. Do you know who he is?" A broad paw sprawled across the width of my lower back and with a gentle nudge he pushed me in her direction.
"Hello Dragdell. I know who he is." She responded with a level tone that was somewhere between docile and just plain blank, "This is Andrew McLay, he writes the story of my life. I've always wanted to meet you."
I was a little off put by her voice, to be honest, I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or if this was a side effect of her broken memory. Dragdell patted me reassuringly and so I mustered up the courage to speak, "Tina Candell, I wrote your story when I was just out of college." I answered peered down at the pad of paper again. There were rounded people on the page like a child who wanted to draw more than stick figures but didn't know how. One was a child, that I knew to be Tina, and the other, an adult, but a tigress. "Is that Tara?" I asked gently even though I knew the answer.
"Yes." She responded plainly, "She was my imaginary friend who helped me when I was a child escape the cruel reality of my life. She didn't follow me into middle school and I haven't seen her since then. But I don't remember anything other than that. I do miss her though..."
I bit my lip in anxiety. I had always thought that my characters weren't real until now but I still always wanted to treat them like a father would treat their children, and seeing them in a state like this was tough, especially since it was my fault they were here. Proudmane tapped me on the shoulder and motioned me to another table. Two otters playing with building blocks sat there: one, a male, who looked like he was in his twenties, and the other a girl who looked barely eight or nine. "Jack and Pepper Streams? I wrote about you two way back when. You were the first time I wrote for leisure." I looked down towards the girl in confusion, "But what happened to Pepper? You two are supposed to be twins."
Jack continued assembling wooden blocks for a few more moments before leaving his sister to speak, "I developed fine in your work, Andrew, but Pepper here, she wasn't as lucky. As your stories focused solely more and more on me, Pep was left behind in the dust. I'm here to keep her company until she has her memory all back together again, which'll be soon now that you're here, right?"
My mouth gaped open then closed again as I tried my best to come up with something to say. More and more I felt guilt driven by my apathy and I had no good defense for it, "I...uh..."
"Come now Jack, Master McLay is not here fix everything just yet. Why don't you take dear Pepper to the dining hall for now? I heard Moondrops baked fresh cookies recently." The lion smiled as the pair got up and left, playfully tussling the little otter's hair as they left before turning back to me, "My time grows short, I'm afraid I can only introduce you to one more of your creations."
Dragdell took me to a table near the back of the room where a lone boy in his early teens was building with clay, but before the base of the sculpture was even finished he would cry out in disgust and smash it back into a ball and try again. My heart sank upon recognizing who this was and Dragdell nodded solemnly, "I think you realize why he's frustrated."
I returned the nod and approached the table gingerly, "I'll take this one." I replied as I approached the boy from behind, "Hey Adam, what's up?"
Another growl of frustration escaped from him followed by the sound of his fist slamming through the clay into the table, "Leave me alone..." He snapped, "I know my ending, I just don't know what happens between now and then. But there's no point so just leave me alone."
Adam was truly upsetting to see, especially since we both knew that I intended for him to die since the beginning of his story. The guilt rising in me was almost unbearable; how could I kill him off like this? With only knowing that there was death and no happiness between now and then? "Adam, that's not true. There is a point."
The teen snorted with skepticism, "Nothing you write is satisfactory enough for you, so why should I believe that?"
"I think he has found new motivation to help all of you find your memories," Dragdell intervened, "Am I right, Master McLay?"
I nodded slowly while my gaze went back to everyone in my room, of all the people I didn't have a chance to talk to and what they would have to say. Thousands of ideas flooded through my head, and one in particular for Adam; one I thought he would find a lot more satisfying, "Yeah, of course. I think Adam here may come to learn soon enough that there will be meaning to his story. And I will do my best to make sure that your sacrifice won't be in vain."
The anger and frustration in Adam's expression slowly faded away. I would like to think that the gaps in his memory were filled as soon as I figured out what I wanted to do with him, and judging by his reaction, I think he found it much more satisfying. Dragdell wrapped his arm around me and rumbled one more time, "I am afraid that we must take you back to the land of the waking, Master McLay, but I wish to say one final time from all of us what an honor it has been to meet you. When you wake up, you will find that I have left you a gift that will be useful in your task."
"Wait, can you do that? But you're in my head, how can you--"
Awake.
My body shot up awake before I could finish my question, my breathing quickened from the excitement that occurred in my sleep. Gradually I was able to regain control and peered over at the clock: 6:30 AM. "Damn, could've woken me up a bit later." I complained before noticing something on the top of my clock which I fumbled about to grasp.
"A notebook?" Curiously I thumbed through the pages to find them all blank, except for the very first page:
"Andrew McLay,
I hope you find this notebook helpful as you continue to hone your skills as a storyteller. I know that like Adam, you are quick to destroy any work you find unsatisfactory. May another fellow bard's words of wisdom help inspire you to see the beauty in all stories.
Lord Dragdell Proudmane of the Telan Pride
�There was never yet an uninteresting life. Such a thing is an impossibility. Inside of the dullest exterior there is a drama, a comedy and a tragedy. �Mark Twain.'
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Writer's block can be deadly. I mean sure, there's ways to conquer it; accomplished writers will tell you to write without stopping, paying no heed to whatever nonsense you spew out because hey, at least you're writing. But see, my problem was OCD. My stories had to be constructed in my head from beginning to end before a single drop of ink hit paper, and when I couldn't figure that out, writing became work for me. Work led to apathy, and well, not a lot of stories would get finished. Not until someone, or something, I guess is more appropriate, kicked my ass into gear.
"Andrew, you awake yet? C'mon, we don't have all night."
"Wah? Yeah, yeah, I'm up--" I had never heard the voice prodding me before, and yet I reacted like I had some deep, familiar connection with it for a while now. I groaned as I struggled to push myself upright, my eyes taking a moment to fully come into focus. I found myself laying across a couch in what looked like a waiting room. Shelves with leather bound books lined every inch of wall while in front of me stood a single large desk littered with papers and writing utensils; they didn't look like they have been used for a while. "Wait, this isn't where I fell asleep."
My head snapped around to the side in the direction the voice was coming from and my jaw dropped in disbelief. The figure before me was a lion, standing upright and with an air of confidence in a leather jerkin while a sword dangled from his left hip, "You. I know you. You're..."
"Dragdell Proudmane, that is correct Master McLay." The massive feline nodded patiently, the leather in his clothing tautening around his shoulders as he crossed his arms in a salute, "It's an honor to finally meet you."
My head spun as I pushed myself up out of the couch too quickly. Dragdell quickly sprung an arm open to catch me while I teetered but I shook my head, "It's fine, I'm fine." I sighed and peered back at him, "But you, you can't be real. I wrote a crappy story about you for a creative writing project back in high school for God's sake."
Dragdell made a deep, wholesome rumbling that sounded like amused laughter as much as a terrifying growl. He carefully reached around me to throw a stern paw on my shoulder as reassurance, "Rest assured Master McLay, my adventures were grand indeed. Your storytelling abilities as a bard were merely still ripening then. However, I'm afraid I am to speak with you about more serious matters. I do not have enough time to answer your questions since time in dreams waivers; what may only seem like minutes may actually be hours and daybreak may yet arrive in your own world."
"So I'm in a dream?" I asked while staring at the bookshelves with curiosity. Everything felt too real to be a dream, "Does that make you just a figment of my imagination? Subconscious? Something along those lines?"
My host's mane flowed as he shook his head slowly, "I have not enough allowance to explain. Allow me your trust that I am very much so real, albeit in a different way than corporeal in your world. As for where we are in this dreamscape, we are in your own mind. Your own creative spark, to be exact. I wish to show you something. Come." His tail flicked idly while the bookshelves slowly vanished and a single door materialized in their place. Dragdell opened it and stood halfway through before turning around. "Well?"
I couldn't help but look a bit surprised by this. Normally door opening would seem like a mundane action, but on the other side was nothing; pure blackness. "Are you sure I can follow?" The lion nodded and with reluctance I followed.
He stepped aside to allow me through before closing the door and pitch black gave way to the tolerable dimness of a well lit night sky. My eyes glowed with awe as I stared upwards into the stars while Proudmane rumbled in amusement yet again, "For someone so taken aback by the clockwork of the cosmos, I must say, your work lacks much focus on it."
I half answered with an excuse, "I had ideas. I just well...never had any ideas on how to complete them is all."
Dragdell's sword sheath clanked against the metal buckles of his boots as he spun around to face me, "And that is exactly why I must speak to you, Master McLay. As you trust by now, I am alive and real, as are all the others you have written about in your stories. I was fortunate enough to have the tapestry of my tale completely woven, but many of my comrades are not as blessed, sadly. Their memories are shattered at points where you stopped writing, affecting their identity entirely. This part of your mind is where they rest until they, and you find who they are. I am their caretaker until that time arrives. Come, I'll show you."
The door behind him reappeared and opened on its own. Beyond it laid a room that was different than the one we had previously come in from. It was littered with tables and at each table were various types of art supplies, but that wasn't what was interesting. Characters I had written about from every age, every genre, every setting, every point of my life were all together in this room at various tables. "I encourage them to express themselves in art." The lion explained, "It helps them remember the memories they �do--have while hopefully discovering new fragments of their undiscovered story."
I tried to think of something to say but I couldn't; I was too stuck wordlessly staring at all of my creations under one roof. They didn't seem too excited to see me either. Not that they noticed me though, they were all preoccupied with their projects in front of him. Dragdell approached a table with one occupant and ushered me towards him.
She was a girl of about high school age, human, unlike Dragdell, and in front of her was a large pad of paper littered with messy crayon drawings that had a childlike innocence to it all. "Tina, I have someone special here who wants to meet you. Do you know who he is?" A broad paw sprawled across the width of my lower back and with a gentle nudge he pushed me in her direction.
"Hello Dragdell. I know who he is." She responded with a level tone that was somewhere between docile and just plain blank, "This is Andrew McLay, he writes the story of my life. I've always wanted to meet you."
I was a little off put by her voice, to be honest, I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or if this was a side effect of her broken memory. Dragdell patted me reassuringly and so I mustered up the courage to speak, "Tina Candell, I wrote your story when I was just out of college." I answered peered down at the pad of paper again. There were rounded people on the page like a child who wanted to draw more than stick figures but didn't know how. One was a child, that I knew to be Tina, and the other, an adult, but a tigress. "Is that Tara?" I asked gently even though I knew the answer.
"Yes." She responded plainly, "She was my imaginary friend who helped me when I was a child escape the cruel reality of my life. She didn't follow me into middle school and I haven't seen her since then. But I don't remember anything other than that. I do miss her though..."
I bit my lip in anxiety. I had always thought that my characters weren't real until now but I still always wanted to treat them like a father would treat their children, and seeing them in a state like this was tough, especially since it was my fault they were here. Proudmane tapped me on the shoulder and motioned me to another table. Two otters playing with building blocks sat there: one, a male, who looked like he was in his twenties, and the other a girl who looked barely eight or nine. "Jack and Pepper Streams? I wrote about you two way back when. You were the first time I wrote for leisure." I looked down towards the girl in confusion, "But what happened to Pepper? You two are supposed to be twins."
Jack continued assembling wooden blocks for a few more moments before leaving his sister to speak, "I developed fine in your work, Andrew, but Pepper here, she wasn't as lucky. As your stories focused solely more and more on me, Pep was left behind in the dust. I'm here to keep her company until she has her memory all back together again, which'll be soon now that you're here, right?"
My mouth gaped open then closed again as I tried my best to come up with something to say. More and more I felt guilt driven by my apathy and I had no good defense for it, "I...uh..."
"Come now Jack, Master McLay is not here fix everything just yet. Why don't you take dear Pepper to the dining hall for now? I heard Moondrops baked fresh cookies recently." The lion smiled as the pair got up and left, playfully tussling the little otter's hair as they left before turning back to me, "My time grows short, I'm afraid I can only introduce you to one more of your creations."
Dragdell took me to a table near the back of the room where a lone boy in his early teens was building with clay, but before the base of the sculpture was even finished he would cry out in disgust and smash it back into a ball and try again. My heart sank upon recognizing who this was and Dragdell nodded solemnly, "I think you realize why he's frustrated."
I returned the nod and approached the table gingerly, "I'll take this one." I replied as I approached the boy from behind, "Hey Adam, what's up?"
Another growl of frustration escaped from him followed by the sound of his fist slamming through the clay into the table, "Leave me alone..." He snapped, "I know my ending, I just don't know what happens between now and then. But there's no point so just leave me alone."
Adam was truly upsetting to see, especially since we both knew that I intended for him to die since the beginning of his story. The guilt rising in me was almost unbearable; how could I kill him off like this? With only knowing that there was death and no happiness between now and then? "Adam, that's not true. There is a point."
The teen snorted with skepticism, "Nothing you write is satisfactory enough for you, so why should I believe that?"
"I think he has found new motivation to help all of you find your memories," Dragdell intervened, "Am I right, Master McLay?"
I nodded slowly while my gaze went back to everyone in my room, of all the people I didn't have a chance to talk to and what they would have to say. Thousands of ideas flooded through my head, and one in particular for Adam; one I thought he would find a lot more satisfying, "Yeah, of course. I think Adam here may come to learn soon enough that there will be meaning to his story. And I will do my best to make sure that your sacrifice won't be in vain."
The anger and frustration in Adam's expression slowly faded away. I would like to think that the gaps in his memory were filled as soon as I figured out what I wanted to do with him, and judging by his reaction, I think he found it much more satisfying. Dragdell wrapped his arm around me and rumbled one more time, "I am afraid that we must take you back to the land of the waking, Master McLay, but I wish to say one final time from all of us what an honor it has been to meet you. When you wake up, you will find that I have left you a gift that will be useful in your task."
"Wait, can you do that? But you're in my head, how can you--"
Awake.
My body shot up awake before I could finish my question, my breathing quickened from the excitement that occurred in my sleep. Gradually I was able to regain control and peered over at the clock: 6:30 AM. "Damn, could've woken me up a bit later." I complained before noticing something on the top of my clock which I fumbled about to grasp.
"A notebook?" Curiously I thumbed through the pages to find them all blank, except for the very first page:
"Andrew McLay,
I hope you find this notebook helpful as you continue to hone your skills as a storyteller. I know that like Adam, you are quick to destroy any work you find unsatisfactory. May another fellow bard's words of wisdom help inspire you to see the beauty in all stories.
Lord Dragdell Proudmane of the Telan Pride
�There was never yet an uninteresting life. Such a thing is an impossibility. Inside of the dullest exterior there is a drama, a comedy and a tragedy. �Mark Twain.'
Oh man, have I got a buzzer beater for you. I haven't done Thursday prompts in a while, and I did promise I'd do some more writing, but unfortunately work has been driving me into the ground. To put it into perspective: I worked until 11 PM and then need to go back to work at 7 AM tomorrow. So seeing as how I stayed up way later than I should. I'll let the story speak for itself. Enjoy!
Category Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Any
Size 120 x 114px
enjoyed with a lunch of smoked salmon, cherry tomatoes, and avocado...
a true pity that I had no wine...
very very good story Ryan...
V.
a true pity that I had no wine...
very very good story Ryan...
V.
Thank you so very much for pointing this out to me Vixyyfox.
And thank you RyanTaranis for writing it.
I write as well, and my characters are very real to me. Just I have a bit of a problem making them real to my readers.
Bunners
And thank you RyanTaranis for writing it.
I write as well, and my characters are very real to me. Just I have a bit of a problem making them real to my readers.
Bunners
Yeah, I'm always afraid that my characters may not come off well enough to readers, but I'm really surprised to see the reaction to Dragdell!
Thanks for coming by, glad you enjoyed it!
Thanks for coming by, glad you enjoyed it!
Hi,
Oh yes, this kind of dream is just the thing for authors with writer's block.
Thank you for this story!
Oh yes, this kind of dream is just the thing for authors with writer's block.
Thank you for this story!
Oh definitely, it's really helped to get my creative juices flowing again. Thank you for taking the time to read it, I'm glad you enjoyed!
Thanks Dogfire! Glad to see you're still doing well off Bigfurs!
Excellent, excellent story. And a situation not dissimilar to one in which I allow myself to remain all too often. I'm just not brave enough, often enough... I envy you that. And thank you again for sharing this. Keep up the good work.
Hehe, yeah, I've been kind of in a slump for a while now. This was a lot of self motivation for me to kick my butt back in gear. :P
Thanks for stopping by!
Thanks for stopping by!
Excellent story! Would love to read more of Dragdell Proudmane. He's an exceptional character you've created. Well done!
Thanks! Dragdell is honestly just an archetype I use for when I need a heart of gold type character in a story seeing as how I've been having a hard time coming up with "permanent" chars, if you know what I mean. I've actually been having ideas ferment in my head for another character that's very similar to Dragdell, though a bit more of a country boy ;). I'll be introducing him in this week's Thursday prompt if my work allows me enough time to write!
This really hit close to home. I would hate to meet all the characters of my unfinished stories. Like Andrew McLay, I owe them more than I have currently given them.
Nicely done, and a great motivational tale for all the writers here.
Nicely done, and a great motivational tale for all the writers here.
Same, same. This may sound borderline schizophrenic, but I do have tons of conversations with them in my head when I'm by myself, waiting in a line, etc to pass the time, so I have an idea usually of what they're like. Just gotta put pen to paper now!
Thank you for reading!
Thank you for reading!
Very nicely done! It's something some of us need to read now and then!
Thank you!
Thank you!
You're very welcome. Thank you for taking the time to read it!
Vixyy sent me. And yeah... this one hits pretty close for me as well.
Thanks, glad I could get deep into people's feelings so well with this writing.
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