Time to Figure This Thing Out

John stared at the blank page. It had been two hours since he opened the notebook, picked up his best pen, got comfortable in the back lounge of the bus and not one single mark spoilt the page.

There were no words. No sentences in his head that made any sense to speak let alone write down in a form of a new song, or poem. Nothing made sense whatsoever and the more he tried to grab just one solid word from the endless pit, the more it escaped him leaving him surrounded by nothing.

There was no real pressure to have something new written, John knew that. But after spending so long being able to write almost every day, create something new every day. He felt lost when he couldn’t. He felt out of place even in his own mind and stressed.

John wondered when writing felt like such a job. Something that had to be done every day when it didn’t. Did he loose the fun of writing? Or did he just got lost in the words that John thought he could understand?

Either way the page remained blank as it was two hours ago.

From the front of the bus soft bubbles of laughter drifted through the air along with a range of footsteps coming and going from the bunk area. Everyone knew that John needed space and did their best to give it to him despite the small area they were cramped into. John appreciated that and the fact they tried to keep quiet knowing that doing both on a bus was next to impossible. Honestly, even with doors on both ends of the bunk area, the bus was almost just as noisy as their old van.

A dull thump echoed down the hallway with loud laughing, which was followed by hisses of ‘shut up’ and ‘keep quiet’ that was just as loud.

John sighed frustrated pushing the book away across the table before resting his head down, pressing his cheek into the cold wood. Not five minutes later footsteps approached the back lounge door along with timid knock.

“Yeah?” He called out slightly muffled by the table top closing his eyes.

The door eased open and a mop of brown hair poked in through the gap.

“Hey,” Garrett greeted quietly eyes searching around the room before coming to a stop on John. “Do you happen to know where those mini shakers of Pat’s are? He can’t find them.”

John shook his head, his hair making soft rustling noises against the wood.

“Haven’t seen them.”

Garrett nodded making a move to leave but stopped. He looked back over at John; shoulders slumped and hair tousled to the point it looked like he just got out of bed. Garrett then noticed the empty open notebook and frowned entering the room. John didn’t more nor opens his eyes.

Taking a seat next to the defeated singer, Garrett nudged John’s leg gently causing the older male to open his eyes.

“Stuck?”

“You could say that.” John sighed.

“Writers block?” Garrett asked reaching out for the book and flicking back a couple of pages seeing more scratched out lines then readable words.

“Too many thoughts. Writers block. Same thing and both a major pain in the ass.”

Garrett hummed flicking the book closed and placed the pen on top. Out the corner of his eye he saw Pat sneak a peek around the half open door and disappeared down the row of bunks just as quickly as he appeared. John sighed again closing his eyes.

Still nothing sparked in his mind and his hand itched to be writing something. Anything.

“Maybe you should leave it for a while; you can’t force yourself to write something that isn’t there.” Garrett said after a while. “You’re just going to give yourself a headache.”

“I know...” John trailed off.

He lifted his head up from the table top gazing at his book longingly before finally turning his full attention towards Garrett. It was then he actually noticed the rest of the bus was dead silent other than the sound of wheels moving over bitumen.

John glanced down the walkway that he could see out of the door. It was empty.

“I’m just so used to it, just writing every day. It feels weird now if I don’t.” John said running a hand through his hair making it even more of a mess than what it was before.

“Maybe that’s the problem,”

Both Garrett and John snapped their gaze up towards the door where Kennedy was standing. How neither of them heard Kennedy approaching the door they had no idea, Pat was usually the only one that managed to walk light enough to not be noticed half of the time. Kennedy smiled stepping into the room sitting down on the couch opposite.

“You spend so much time writing maybe you need to have a break for a while. Just write things when you think of them and not moping somewhere for hours on end by yourself.” Kennedy suggested with a small shrug.

“Come have fun with us!” Garrett grinned. “Jared found some really cool videos on YouTube,”

“Pat was even trying to copy the dancing Disney skeletons earlier. It was pretty awesome.” Kennedy added with an amused smiled.

John gave a small smile. He looked back down at his book and with a short sigh he nodded agreeing. They did have a point. How was he meant to write anything if he was forcing it? All he was going to do is push the words even further away from him and John didn’t want that to happen. He didn’t want to lose sight of them for longer than what he already had.

He needed to get back into writing how he used to other than out of routine. Sitting around moping wasn’t going to help either even if that was all he felt like doing sometimes. And it’s not like the next album had to be written tomorrow either.

Reaching out for the book John grabbed it looking up at his friends and band mates. They both grinned in understanding and stood heading out of the room. John followed slowly placing the notebook and pen in its safe spot hidden inside his bunk. Staring at the black cover for a moment he shook his head. He needed to stop stressing over it. Seriously.

When he walked out into the front lounge he noticed that everyone; band and crew, somehow managed to cram themselves into the tiny area with still enough room for Pat to dance around in. Not that he needed all that much room anyway but it was still an amazing feat.

“Hey, you’re just in time!” Jared beamed. “Pat was just about to do the dance again,”

“And hopefully not fall over this time.” Pat chuckled.

John smiled squeezing into what was left of the kitchen bench to lean on, ready to watch.

Maybe this was all he really needed, just to be around his friends for a while, let go and have fun without worrying over things that didn’t need to be worried about. Who knows maybe his friends could help him be inspired again, help bring the words back to create something new for the five of them.

John had all the time he wanted, needed. He just had to remember that.