Hobbitrek. One Mountain. Zero Eagles.

When Writing Stalls, Storytelling Finds a Way

Lately, my writing has been stuck. Ideas sit half-formed, sentences feel lifeless, and every new draft fizzles out before it finds its spark. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that storytelling isn’t limited to the page.

So instead of forcing the words, I let them take another shape — this time, in video.

Long ago (or rather, last weekend), two weary travelers embarked on a perilous quest. Not for gold, nor glory, but for the simple, foolish thrill of reaching the top of a mountain.

Step by step, stone by stone, they climbed. The path was steep, the wind unkind, and the weight of their own choices… unbearably heavy. Yet onward they trudged, fueled only by sheer stubbornness and the distant hope of second breakfast.

And then — at last — they reached the summit. The city of Tbilisi lay stretched beneath them, the sky endless above. Had they conquered the mountain? Or had the mountain merely tolerated their presence?

No one could say. But for a brief, fleeting moment, they were kings of the heights.

…Until they remembered they still had to climb back down.

So, no, the novel isn’t flowing right now. But the instinct for story? It finds a way. Even when the words resist, the narrative lives on — in a different medium, with a different rhythm, but still the same heartbeat.

And sometimes, that’s enough.