I've been working on it for months. It's high fantasy.

It has taken me 5 years from a bedtime story that I made up for the kids to an actual book.

So i have Like an Idea about a Fantasy anime. But its all about this giant City and the Main Charakter gets Put in a millitary force, that protects the giant fields of Farm Land that is needed to sustain this giant City. I came Up with the Idea because Fantasy writers Talk about like giant Citys but Theres Like never any extra Info about the sorounding food sources that are needed

I knew something was wrong the moment I woke up and stared at the ceiling for five straight minutes, wondering what century I was in.

Usually, my brain is at least half-functional in the morning—enough to remind me of the 17 things I was supposed to do but probably wouldn’t. But today? Silence.

Still groggy, I grabbed my phone, only to find a formal resignation letter waiting for me in my notes app.

Resignation Letter:

"Dear Overworked and Underslept Human,

I, your brain, am officially quitting. I refuse to function under these unbearable conditions. The unreasonable workload (including, but not limited to, overanalyzing texts at 3 AM, sudden existential crises, and remembering song lyrics from 2009 instead of actual important information) has taken its toll.

Effective immediately, I will no longer be responsible for decision-making, memory recall, or basic functioning. Any attempts to force me into action will be met with buffering, random shutdowns, and, if necessary, the Blue Screen of Death (a.k.a. zoning out mid-conversation).

Good luck surviving without me."

Sincerely,

Brain (Now Unemployed).”

I blinked. Then blinked again. My brain was joking, right?

Spoiler alert: It was not joking.

Stage 1: Memory Malfunction

At first, I thought I could manage without my brain. But then things started to go very wrong.

Walked into the kitchen. Forgot why. Walked out. Walked back in. Still blank. Walked out again in hopes that my memory would magically reboot itself. (It did not.)

Opened Instagram to check something important. Ended up scrolling memes for 25 minutes. Still don’t know what I originally opened it for.

Met an old classmate who said, “Hey, long time! Remember me?” My brain pulled out an error message: [404 Name Not Found]

Stage 2: Speech System Failure

With memory out of order, my ability to form coherent sentences followed next.

Tried to say, "Can you pass the salt?" but my mouth decided "Can you sass the palt?" was a better option.

Called a giraffe a “long-necked horse.”

The waiter said, “Enjoy your meal.” I replied, “You too.” (I considered moving to a new country after that.)

At this point, my brain wasn’t just on strike—it was actively sabotaging me.

Stage 3: Decision-Making Shutdown

Spent 15 minutes picking a movie. Ended up watching nothing.

Stared at my closet, hoping the right outfit would telepathically choose itself. Wore the same hoodie from yesterday.

Debated whether to reply to a text immediately or wait three hours to seem cool. Result? Forgot to reply entirely.

By noon, I was in full-on crisis mode. I tried everything to get my brain back—chocolates, deep breathing, even apologizing out loud:

"Come on, brain. We’ve been through so much together. You can’t just abandon me like this!"

Nothing.

Desperate, I Googled: "What to do when your brain stops working?"

Google’s top suggestion? Drink water.

Great. My brain is staging a full protest, and the internet thinks I’m a dehydrated houseplant.

Stage 4: Negotiation Attempts

Realizing I had no choice, I tried to bribe my brain back:

"I'll sleep early from now on!" (A lie.)

"No more unnecessary overthinking!" (A bigger lie.)

"I’ll eat healthier!" (A betrayal to my love for junk food.)

Finally, after a power nap and a cup of coffee, my brain hesitantly sent a memo:

"Considering reinstatement. Terms: More sleep, less overthinking, and maybe stop embarrassing yourself in public. Final warning."

I agreed. Mostly.

Moral of the story?

Your brain deserves better. Treat it well, or one day, it might just quit on you. And if that happens, don’t panic—just do what I do. Write about it and make people laugh.

Because let’s be honest, I may be overworked, underslept, and a professional procrastinator, but at least I can turn my struggles into entertainment. And if you enjoyed reading this, you might enjoy more of my chaotic thoughts here.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

If you liked the post upvote it, if don't well you can downvote it too. Don't forget to share your feedback and thoughts in the comments as it will help me to do better.

Meet you in the next story!

~ Not really

I can write scenes normally, but when I get to the dialogue, I freeze and give up. they seem very strange and robotic, I can't quite put my finger on it. I'll give an example.

"Look how cold it is!" "Come on in!" he says, pulling her inside.

"Argh! Let go of me, I know very well what I'm doing."

I simply can't write long conversations at all, and this is really hindering me. Any advice would be greatly appreciated.

Get ready for The Hawthorne with songs from 1928-1939 that find their way into the pages of this thriller set in Cicero, Illinois.

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLDfNiNryPvB6lftskUSI6HTfGJvBfCrse&si=O08lQVW9rlpMyNRH

Purchase available on Amazon, Lulu and direct at HannahBree72.com

#TheHawthorne #Hannahbree72 #eBooks #booksbooksbooks #bookrecommendations

CHAPTER 1 

It can be argued the horror started that day, but I think it ended that day. Honestly, I can’t really rememberthat day very well, but it still feels like it happened to me yesterday. I really can’t remember anything before that, I struggle to remember close family and friends’ names, and I have completely forgotten other family members, like cousins and uncles, names completely. I think I had a nephew; I vaguely remember my sister telling me she was with child, but I can’t remember when or if it happened at all. Actually, I can’t remember my sister, did I have a sister? I can’t remember. Its strange, its like I’m going mad, but I know I am going mad, and I know there are people that were in my life but I can’t even remember their names or even who they were.  

Sometimes I forget how I ended up here, almost like I was born and raised in this place, but I can vaguely remember me almost transitioning through space and time but at the same time, it felt like I was just opening a door to a hallway, a place that can take me somewhere else. But the few memories which I can mostly remember, feel like I was already apart of this place, almost like me coming here my goal in life, the only thing in my life with actual meaning. I don’t know why it felt like I was always apart of this place, it most likely hassomething to do with my memory and how all I can remember is my time here. 
 

 But now I think, this place is not apart of me, it is me. I am nothing without it, it is all of me and I will never leave it and I never came here, I have always been here I am this place the place is me. I think about how I want leave here almost every day, but I never came here and there is nothing else out there, why wouldn’t I be able to remember family and friends even though I have supposedly not been in here long so I must not have any family so if that’s the case, how do I know everything I knew before. Or do I even know anything, what do I know? Nothing.  

I am going mad. I have lost it; how would I be a part of this place and being made here? I know I have family; I just don’t know who they are and their names, but at the same time, I can’t even remember myself at all so how could I know my family. It must be this place, it doing this to me, it feels like I came here yesterday, but at the same time, it feels like I have been here for years. Am I even lost? Who even am I? I hate this, I don’t know who anyone is and I don’t know who I and I don’t even know where I came from. But at the same time, I like it here. 

Chapter 2 

“Hi! My name is Adam Brooks and I will be excellent here b-b-b-because-because... I have verry g-g-good-good…. GOD DAMMIT!” Adam sighed deeply “How the hell am I gonna do this interview” he whispered to himself. “Remember what Liam said, just try again, Hi! My name is Adam Brooks and I will be excellent here because I have a masters degree in coding and IT s-s-s-skills, it says on my C-C-CV how I graduated with Honours at the U-U-University of Chicago a-and…. GOD DAMMIT” Adam shouted at the top of his lungs. 

 He stood back in front of a mirror, ripping of a tie in the process. His hair was combed and he wore a tony suit, and had a small ear-piercing on his left ear. He paced back on though trying to calm himself down in the process, and ended up on his bed in exhaustion. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He called one of the only supportive people in his life, his brother Liam. He heard it ring and ring, and it took a while for Liam to answer it, that long where he almost hung up. 

Liam: “what’s up?” 

Adam: “Nothing, just I practised the interview like you asked” 

Liam: “Aaaand?” 

Adam: “I messed it up, and I got angry again” 

Liam: “Did you try those exercises I told you?” 

Adam: “Yes I tried breathing in and out, holding my breath all that therapeutic bullshit” 

Liam: “Chuckles” 

Adam: “No but seriously, it has been slightly helping my nerves, but I still get angry” 

Liam: “Have you been taking those pills the doctor prescribed you?” 

Adam: “DON’T FUCKING TELL ME TO TAKE THOSE PILLS, I DON’T HAVE TO DO A GOD DAMN THING…. I-I-I-I-M so sorry” 

Liam: “don’t worry, I know you don’t mean it” 

Adam: “Yeah, yeah, yeah. But I don’t like those pills, they make me someone I’m not