The Sacred Writer's Trance

[UnicornBaby]

Here is an excercise that I always do when I am broken hearted, drowning in the waters of depression, breathing the fires of fury, or simply suffering from writer's block. It is very easy to do and perhaps the most relaxing thing that a writer could ever do. All you need is the metaphorical Pen and a little time to just let it all flow out. I usually do this with a pencil and paper but it will work just fine with a keyboard and screen. I will guide you through the process.
Close your eyes and allow all your energy to power the metaphorical Pen, for this is where your journey begins. Now just begin writing. Don't think, don't stop, don't worry about grammer or rhythm or methods or themes, just let it flow. You will soon break into a trance, the writer's trance, so sacred, so coveted, so greatly craved by all. You will feel like you floating off into a dream as all your worries, frets, problems, and emotions are released and displayed in the fabulous form of words. I have felt the relief and seen my own creations through this magnicifent process. But now it is your time to begin your quest. You will be amazed at the insight and beauty that you will discover, both within yourself and flying across the page...

Let the dance of the writer's trance begin.

[UnicornBaby]

Oh, come on, its easy. Here, I'll post one of my trance writings from earlier today. I'll even post the worst and most disturbing of them all. You don't have to be afraid to let it all free. This one helped me out of a short lived depression that caught me off guard, so here it is. However, I'll break it into segments so it won't seem so long, but just remember that it is all one ramble of ceaseless strokes of the Pen (metaphorically, I really used a pencil). So here we go:

Where is my amor, my precious shield, throw me my sword, and take to the field. The monster rises so tall in skin and I am easily tired thin. So what do I do, how do I fight, I feel weak, there is no might. Save me a dance if I die for if I am eaten, at least I can sigh. I am cramping and there is a stampede; who cares if you are napping, come and help me. I need a hand to hold me up for I will always fall at the start of the song, as the aching doesn't have an end; Oh, please, make it end.

I can't climb the mountain if I can't conquer the hill; please keep quiet, your lips you will seal. They can't know I am weak for they will put me away, I'll have nothing to seek. I'll be alone and searching for nothing because all is gone and there is no something. So promise me you'll let me bleed, for if you were to take the lead and carry me away, you wouldn't have much to say because you wouldn't be able to stay and they would take you away.

This is my fight so don't follow me; stay out of sight and sight to see. You can can run, you can hide, but I am left with darkness inside. Don't catch the cold or my fever, I am raging with fury and hidden endeavors. I can feel the fluid as it drips. It truly burns. Take a sip. You can have my blood that I will surely shed. I am lost in a world that could never be dreamt. It is too wild for even the madmans song for he has left things just too long.

But I am the fire and you are the ice. We will destroy each other if all is nice. And if we die, which we surely will, you can kiss me goodbye and take the pill. The remedy, it will just end it all. The medicine likes watching us as well we fall. The arson will set fire to our beds as we are sleeping and fully fed. So don't forget to leave me once you get the chance or you will go down in an ungraceful prance. I am hopeless and hope is less. I am greater than pain's demise as i forget the rhyme and fall fast asleep.


Seee, how easy it is. Its just an unstopping flow of thought. You see, from beginning to end, there is no organization. I just kept going, without pausing to think what sounds best or how it should be written. I just kept going. This one was disturbing. They're usually not like this unless I'm depressed. It also had a rhyme scheme but that is because that is how my thoughts flow most of the time; at least when I'm in the sacred writer's trance. I want to see what you all will create when you begin the trance. So please, don't be afraid of what you may reveal about yourself. You just saw the dark side of the unicorn girl for goodness sakes. Just go with it and keep going. .

[LMGilbert]

I do this sometimes but I call it "Stream of Mushroom Soup." Here's one just as embarassing I found in my notebook from at least a year ago:

fluffy snowfall followed by blue and white sky that could be found in an Italian painting, with the baby jesus his mother and aunt and cousin having a picnic in the landscape, but here the snow has laid plush accents on everything, every branch and twig, rooftop, cartop, bicycle spoke, telephone wire. backyard a blank page until the ravens come to write their runes and I try to translate while my hands curve around my coffee cup holding on to that smooth circle of warmth.