What if I wrote a story about a daring princess, one that saves the prince in the end and steals his heart instead?
Once upon a time- ..
No, that's not right. Delete, delete, delete.
In the distant mountains of-
Of what? Where the fuck could she possibly be from? Scotland? Does Scotland even have distant and cloud covered mountains in them? Maybe I should google that.. No, fuck it. I'll make something up.
Maybe I shouldn't write about princesses. There's too many princess stories to keep up with now anyways. Delete, delete, delete.
What about a romance novel?
He gently caressed her delicate skin and tore at the remaining-
I- er - No. DELETE, DELETE, DELETE. Close. New document.
Think, Kayla, think. You've written shit for stories lately and you're writing folder is over flowing with unfinished work. What about..
Sitting glumly at her computer desk, the keys on her keyboard clicked with each quick touch of her finger tips. The way her fingers darted and moved across the board reminded her of the careful movements involved in playing the piano. Oh, how she wanted to play the piano, even at two in the morning, her lover, family, and friends, sound asleep in their beds. They wouldn't be too happy to awake to the sudden pounding of piano keys.
With a soft sigh, she takes a sip of her quickly cooling coffee. A bitter taste flows over her tongue and her nose wrinkles in distaste. But coffee is too much work to make fresh at this point, so she endures it.
Removing her glasses she pinches the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes and chewing anxiously at her lip.
"Why can't I write anything?" she grumbles to no one in particular, rubbing her fingers against her tired eyes.
How long have the bags under her eyes been so prominent? Become so deep and swollen? I suppose that's what happens when one lives off of so little amount of sleep, practically for a living now.
Sleep. It taunts her, and calls to her with sweet promises of pleasant dreams, only to cross their fingers behind their backs and snicker mischievously. Sleep will have to wait.
Picking up the cup that sloshes, slightly unpleasantly and yet endearingly, with the contents of half a full cup, she glares at it, twisting her lips into a dissatisfied grimace but sucks down a long gulp anyways. Fight off the tiredness, focus on the task at hand. Write- even if it's shit, write. Get it all out. The demon inside her is screaming for something new, something that will 'wow' .
Something that will 'wow' ? Is this what I've resorted to using for vocabulary within my vast knowledge of word use? This won't do either.. Maybe I just need to get some sleep now..
Close. Don't save. Start. Shut down.
Maybe I can try again in the morning. Maybe tomorrow something will come to me.. One can only dream, right?