Writer's Block by Molly Englehardt

Writer's Block

I sat at my desk, frantically tapping my fingers against the hard wood. What to write, What to write. My eyes burned from staring at the blue-lit computer for so long. There had been an unseemly amount of assignments prior to this one, all of which were significantly easier to complete. I scanned through the guidelines of the assignment for the fifth time. 

"Creative writing?" I sighed, running a hand through my hair, "What kind of guideline is that?" I slipped further down into the chair. It's not that the prompt "creative writing" was bad, in fact, it was one of my favorite ways to write-- no restrictions, no severe rules, just writing. I could tell a story that is personal to me... or maybe a persuasion piece? I groaned, resting my head on my arm. Why? Out of all the writing prompts I've done over the months, why did it have to be for my favorite that I get writer's block? I glared at the computer. Might as well try to start. I held my hands apprehensively above the keys for a few seconds before dropping them again. Then I tried again...and again... this is getting ridiculous. I rubbed my eyes and began to fidget with the items left askew on my desk: a pencil, which I used to scribble on a spare post-it note I found in my drawer. There was a notebook of old drawings-- I spent awhile reminiscing. I eventually moved to the floor, where I found a number of random things. I was sorting through an old box of trinkets when there was a knock on my bedroom door. There was only one person in the house that cared enough about my privacy to knock:

"Hey mum, you can come in." I quickly put the box away and tried to make it look as if I was working.

"Hey sweets, did you finish that writing assignment you mentioned earlier?" my mother barred her humorous smile as she sat down. I motioned apathetically to the blank document. "I guess I'll take that as a 'no' then," she laughed in spite of herself. "What's up? Are you having trouble?"

"Well." I began to fidget with the post-it note. "I might be struggling just a little bit." I began to explain my situation-- Writer's block, creative writing prompt, the whole mess. She seemed to find it funny, something in which I took as a personal offense. 

"I don't think I can help you with your writer's block," she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, "but I can give you some bad advice."

"I just love bad advice," I rolled my eyes. "Do tell."

"When I was in high school, and I had issues with writing block, I would try to write about something I recently experienced. That way, it's not only a topic you're familiar with, but it's fresh in your mind." I thought about that for a moment, something I've experienced? Has anything noteworthy happened to me recently? My mother seemed to notice my doubt: "And I know you want to go above and beyond, but it really doesn't need to be some heart wrenching or life-changing story. It simply has to be something you think will be enjoyable to the reader." She looked at the time, she laughed, "Oh, I have to get some stuff around the house done before your messy brothers get home," she stepped out of the room, "Let me know if you need any help." 

"Ok, mum. Thank you," I smiled. I might actually get this done. I turned back to the blank document: Something I recently experienced...wait, that's it. Without any further hesitation, I began my story:

I sat at my desk, frantically tapping my fingers against the hard wood.