“Here I sit… because I am actually sitting instead of standing elsewhere in this room of intrepid design”, he thought to himself as he sat there, in front of his laptop, furiously typing away in an attempt to churn out five-hundred words, five-hundred coherent words that would form some sort of story.
But alas, on that particular night, it was not to be.
He had too many ideas swimming around in his cranium.
Maybe it was far too little.
The fact remains that he was there, sitting down, in front of his laptop, trying to think of something, anything, to write about, but there was nothing that was coming to the forefront to volunteer as an idea.
He did not know what to do about this particular situation, as usually he is able to push past his lack of ideas to com up with something, regardless of how much it was gibberish.
He considered staying up until he had something to work with, but that would leave him feeling rather tired as whilst he didn’t know how long it would take to come up with something, he knew that it was most likely going to be a very long time and staying up for hours on end just to think of something was not something he was interested in doing.
He considered seeing if he could throw his head against the desk to help bring inspiration.
He didn’t do it, but it gave him the idea of writing about a desk that could sink into the floor and travel around whilst it was in the floor, but decided it was a silly idea when he tried typing something out about it, as whilst there were word that came to the forefront, it did not seem to work well as an idea.
Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he kept on trying to get something out, but there was nothing that interested him.
He tried writing about a banana that doubled as poultry every second Thursday, but it seemed even more ridiculous than the last idea he had.
He also considered writing about a magical, time traveling, talking microwave, but not long after he considered it, he realised it was absolutely and utterly stupid as an idea and decided never to entertain the thought of writing about such a thing ever again.
He took a brief break to look at something else, then made an attempt again, but nothing was coming.
He didn’t feel stressed by this, but he was getting annoyed as he just wanted to write something that made more sense than the usual things he wrote, as he was not in the mood for having gibberish come out of the tips of his fingers and show up on the screen of his computer.
That night was not one of those nights though.
Maybe he had a sever case of writer’s block and he wasn’t willing to accept that this was the case.
Eventually, he decided to go to sleep.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 10:01:51
Just over ten minutes.
I thought I’d try to make a story out of not being able to write tonight (not that that’s any different from usual).
Written at my desk at home.