I lost my mojo a while back.
It slipped away as my Katie grew up. I was so focused on her that I didn’t even notice at first.
When I hit that wall, I certainly noticed. It was a huge wall, and I slammed into it painfully hard.
That was when every single word I wrote turned to trash.
I desperately sifted through the garbage pile of my creations. I waded through the sludge of my brain. It was a total loss.
Without my mojo, the words had died.
“I don’t need no stinkin’ mojo!” I growled. If I just kept writing I would flush out the gunk and produce something that is worthy of you…
…or so I thought. Eventually, the stench from my rotten ideas grew too horrible even for me to stand.
There was no other option; I had to step away from the keyboard.
I did other things instead.
I worked at a job. I painted my house. I indulged myself with items long denied. After a lifetime of living with less, this act felt like a rebellious, decadent luxury.
The thing about mojos is that they don’t like to be ignored. They especially don’t like it if they realize that you are happy without them.
I was at work when my mojo returned. He creeped into my head and left an offering.
I pulled out my phone, jotted it down, and went back to work.
I didn’t want him to know that I was excited.
Day by day my wayward mojo tried to make amends with me. He’d slip in, deposit the gift of an idea, and disappear once more.
I’d jot them down and let them go.
He started waking me up at night then. Mojos are not happy when they see their gifts being spurned.
By the time my vacation arrived, my mojo had had enough.
“Why aren’t you using my ideas?” he demanded.
“Not much point if you’re going to wander off again,” I shrugged as I mowed the lawn. “If my writing won’t help anyone, I’d rather not write at all.”
Mojo kicked at a rock, abashed. “I promise I’ll stay this time…if you want.”
We struck a bargain that day, my mojo and I.
And then we got to work.
The rest of my vacation sped by at a furious pace. By the time I returned to work, we had created the white-hot draft of my next book.
As the words cool down enough for me to begin editing, we’ve launched into another one. We’ve decided to have fun with this.
Have You Lost Your Mojo?
Is there something you want to do or have been doing that has turned to shit?
You try and you try but the harder you work the worse it stinks?
That’s the classic sign of a wandering mojo.
Unfortunately, the harder you chase, the faster he runs. But if you step back and turn your mind to other pursuits, your mojo will return.
He just can’t help himself.
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I’ve written a lot of books sharing my odd view of life in hopes of helping others. My most notorious book is titled The Shoestring Girl: How I Live on Practically Nothing and You Can Too, but The Minimalist Cleaning Method is pretty popular as well. You can find them at the following places:
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