Lost and then found.

I think it’s probably true that writers lament the loss of their mojo with a greater regularity than blues guitarists sing about losing theirs. 

Me, I tend to lose mine with the regularity many misplace their car keys, and luckily like them I too seem to rediscover what once was misplaced.

Granted then latest period of loss has been longer and deeper than any before, but this period wasn’t me flouncing around in a frilly shirt chugging opiates while writing dark emotionally profound poetry – not least because I don’t own the necessary frilly shirt!

We have accepted our ‘experienced truth’; and that honesty being that we write tales with a nasty cruel and dark undertone. 

To our own selves we MUST be true!

What was once ‘edited’ from a tale because it was too dark, has now been reintroduced. 

The previously omitted narrative of the murder of children is indeed dark and troublesome, and potentially fertile ground for a therapist and a collection of ink blots, but for a writer and teller of tall tales it is indeed manor from heaven. 

So, were my lack of productivity keeping you awake at night, worry not, should you ever get to read what has reinvigorated me, you will indeed be still awake fearing the darkness and shadows and the evil that it may be concealing… 

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