Writer's Block

As I sit here in my dark bedroom staring at this blank page, I ponder what I want to write about. Creative. I have to be creative. Surely, this will be an easy task. I have been writing for years, but what should I write about? Fiction or Nonfiction? Perhaps an autobiography? A collection of haikus? A screenplay? Oh, I love a good libretto.

Drama.

Action!

Romance?

Shall I have a hero or heroine?

A mysterious crime is in order!

Now that my thoughts have settled out, I can begin to work with them. What do I have? What do I want to make? It has been ages since I have put my pen to paper and written anything remotely creative. I would be better off writing another essay. However, I shan’t speak of that. I should be thankful that this type of writing does not require an outline and hours of tedious reading and analysis.

I am rapidly approaching my second blank page, questioning its existence. It is mocking me. It is screaming, “You must put words on me, Ashton!”

“But what words?” I ask.

“Why, the ones in your head!” Comes its sardonic reply.

Oh, I used a vocabulary word.

“I can’t find anymore words in my head!” I yell back.

My mother enters my room, puzzled as to why I am shouting at my computer screen. If the monitor had a face, it would be smirking. I glare menacingly into its pixels and ignore my mother’s inquiries regarding ice cream and other such sweets. I have a Word document to stare at.

I glance down at my keyboard. The thin, black keys are worn from years of fervent typing. Song lyrics are scribbled all across my mouse pad in thick Sharpie. The light bulb in my desk lamp flickers, signaling a late night. That bulb has gotten me through hundreds of nights like these. Nights when I am futile, looking intently at a blank page, trying to squeeze as much creativity out as I can muster. A copy of Little Women lies under the desk lamp. I have never actually opened the book, but it makes a great lamp stand.

I begin to consider surrendering to this assignment. It is obvious that no plot line is going to form from this jumbled mess of thoughts, observations, and descriptions. The only thing I can think to do is break several rules of formal writing since this is, after all, creative. Don’t you think that’s a good idea? I think you do. See what I did there?

Now I am just being annoying and rambling as I sit alone, staring at the blank page. A full hour has elapsed and not one single resolution has been made. Although, there was no real thesis, was there? I have not the faintest idea what to do with the last bit of space left on this second page because I have a serious case of writer’s block!