Writing Block

No title. A blank page. A few words start appearing on the screen only to be quickly deleted after a couple of seconds. A teenage girl around the age of seventeen had been sitting down in her bed, her hands hovering over the keyboard and her mind rummaging through to break away the writers block. But nothing crawls out of its grave. Nothing hits her. This had been going on for a couple of hours now. She would start writing something only to delete it then scroll though her social medias seeing if maybe something might spark up her interest. Reading would soothe her mind yet still no ideas of something to write would come to her. Images and sceneries would flash like some type of movies in her head yet she could not put it down on paper or in documents. Sighing, the girl sat back in her bed, her eyes staring at the blank page of her documents as her cat laid calmly on her leg, purring lightly. She smiled softly, scratching the cats ears as her mind continued to rummage through, searching for something.

Reaching over, she grabbed a hold of her phone doing her scrolling through social media routine. Nothing caught her eye for writing and she hoped maybe if she just looked up writing prompts, something will spark up her imagination. Nothing that she looked up was any good to her. The prompts were good, she could not deny that but it was not something that she could write nor think of how it could go and how it could end. Throwing her phone aside, she pushed herself back into a sitting position causing her cat to get up and move beside the computer, laying down and starting to mess with her hands as they moved across the keyboard. She let her mind flow and typed anything that came into mind. Not caring at the moment if it made sense or if it was perfect. She did not care if what she was writing was stupid or not even that good. As long as she wrote something down to have imagination flowing and knowing that she still had writing in her, it was okay. She described everything that she could. She described the way her mother sat on the couch, a dora blanket over her lap to keep warm and a Ipad sitting there with a game on the screen. She described the way her mother would put her hand against her cheek whenver she was focusing or staring at the Ipad. The girl described the way she would just start singing out of her no where only to stop because her mother joined along in a horrible singing voice. But that only brought a smile onto her face.

She described the way her mind was blank like someone had poured water into her head and all the words, all the creativity vanished and swimmed away not wanting to be bothered. Not wanting to be used or found. But she found one good imagination and used it to her advantage. By the time, the young girl was finished writing, it was soon time to go to bed though she still had so much to say like how clouds slowly darken before letting out droplets of its tears, falling down upon us. Or how the sun decided to be confident and appear from behind the clouds, smiling down at everyone. The young girl sighed as she knew that she should probably stop writing before she would be writing all night and not get a wink of sleep. Ending the short story, she got out of the documents glancing at the many other documents she had which consist of other stories that she has written before shutting down her computer completely.

"Sometimes just writing without really planning or revising is all it takes to actually write something and have a plot or a way of going with things."