The words would just not come…My hands rested over the flat keyboard of my laptop before me, the fingers slightly curled over the home row key. A single lamp sat upon my spacious black desk beside me and shed a faint yellow glow across my features along with the bright gleam of the monitor screen. I slid the mouse down to pull up the time and found 11:42 PM staring back at me. Unfocused and frustrated, I turned in my chair to glance out the large window behind me although I was unable to see anything through the thick veil of darkness. I brought both of my hands to my tired face and held my head there for a moment. “I need to write…” I whispered to myself with a heavy sigh, my voice amplified in my cupped hands. “I need to write…” With a frown, I returned my hands to their designated letters, turning back in my seat and forcing my eyes to once again stare at the flashing line on the blank screen.
There in the darkness of night in my lone room before my computer screen, I sat and waited. I waited for the ideas to come, the words to flow, the letters to start appearing on the screen. I waited for the cursor to stop flashing.
I shuffled my fingers a bit to hear the clack of keys without actually pressing them, telling myself that it was a weak attempt to revive some inspiration, although I knew that it was really just to pass the time. I was bored, and the words just weren’t coming; yet I was too ashamed to admit it. My mind was empty; I was finished…
Swishing a strand of my blonde hair over my shoulder, I gave my head a slight shake and glanced to the books resting on my desk in front of the lamp. “From Bestselling Author Karen Hall,” The Fall of Castle Tironia, The Firedance of the Dragon, Mysteries of the Fawn’s Glen. Why weren’t the ideas coming? Why wasn’t I able to write? Deep inside I knew that I didn’t really want to write. I had no desire to at the moment, but I knew that I had to and found myself sitting there. There, wrapped in my crimson robe, I slouched over my used keys and waited…
Finally giving up like so many nights before, I pushed myself from the desk and picked myself up from the chair, immediately sliding one hand up to cover my face and stretching my back of the other hand pressed against my hip. Tiredness was bearing down on me and caused me to give a great yawn and rub my strained eyes.
After a moment of standing there, recollecting my thoughts, I took my first step away from my unfinished work, the cold wooden floor meeting with the bottom of my bare foot. I continued on, leaving the room and entering the great hall. I turned and entered my open living room, feeling a release of stress as the ceiling raised above me, opening up to the floor above. Coming close to the lit stone fireplace that rested between two large, cream sofas in the open room, I rested myself upon one, tucking my feet under myself and covering my bare legs with my robe.
I let the warm heat of the fire sweep over me, stinging my eyes and cheeks, but not caring about the slight pain. I didn’t care about anything at the moment and was deep in thought. I could not write. I needed to write. I didn’t want to write. With the crackling tucked into the back of my mind, I closed my eyes and tried to let the tension within my mind go, however it would not. Yawning once more, I reached up to my stretched mouth with my hand and gave my eyes another rub reddening the blue of my eyes even more. Sleep would not come and I knew it. I had spent many shameful and sleepless nights, knowing what I must do, but not being able to do it.
I was pulled from my thoughts when I felt the cushioning beside me press down. “Hey, Misty,” I said plainly, rubbing my hand down the gray cat’s back without any enthusiasm. The feline walked across my lap and quickly became comfortable, curling into a small, furry ball on my robe, allowing me to stroke her short fur as she rested. It soothed me to feel her light breathing raising and falling beneath my hand. “What am I going to do?” I asked to myself and to my cat. “What am I going to do?”
In my mind, all I saw was a blank screen with a single flashing cursor.
Actually, I think untitled for know is an AMAZING title. It summs up her problem(writers block) and lets the reader have a deeper understanding of the correlation between the writer and the written
Woah, that is so awesome…I may actually keep the title then. I don’t know. Thanks, Matt. 🙂
That was cool. It had a fiction feel to it, thought it seemed realistic. I could see this twisting into a fictional story easily enough, or becoming a realistic “nearly true” account of the life and times of Noelle Brooks.
I really liked your narrative voice in this.
You could turn this into your first “The Club” chapter…or not. Up to you!
Thanks Noelle…you are a big help…
That was really cool. Like Mr. Gifford said, I think you had a very good narrative voice here. Good job!
It was cool Noelle….and would be good as part of your “The Club” chapter as Mr. G says….I have a quick question for you since we don’t see each other much…um you have one of those pads that you write on that is for the computer right?? does it need like programs to go with it to make it work…my mother was wondering….if you could help me out that would be so cool…. 🙂
No, you don’t need anything with it. You could use it with paint to draw, or photoshop like I use, and you can even use it with the entire computer just tapping things to click on them.