“Argh, why won’t anything work?!” she pushed back from her desk, fuming. She felt like punching the screen in front of her.
The blank, white screen.
This was the fifth time tonight it had become blank. That’s what they don’t tell you about blank screens, she thought. They never stay that way.
She stood up, sighing. Maybe she just needed a break. Another one. Maybe it would all work itself out before she came back.
She wandered over to the fridge because that’s what she always did when she didn’t know what she was doing. There was actually some food in the fridge today. She’d gone shopping earlier that day. When she should have been writing. She grabbed a Coke.
She had been trying to write all night. A dozen ideas had flown through her head, some she actually thought were pretty good, some she had simply grasped out of desperation. It didn’t matter, they had all died the second she tried to put them on paper. Screen. Whatever.
She thought back to the podcast she listened to earlier that day. “Butt in chair. Hands on keyboard. Keep writing.”
Keep writing. That’s what they always said. Just keep going, it’ll get easier.
Yeah, right, she thought, taking a swig of her soda. Easier said than done.
She stayed in the kitchen for longer than she should have, cherishing her soda. It was late. She didn’t need to look at her clock to know that. She could feel it in the way the shadows in the room deepened, the way her cheap florescent lights were losing the battle against them, and the way her arms sagged against the counter like they were trying to melt into it. The last few hours hadn’t exactly helped her energy.
But none of that changed the fact that she still had work to do.
She sighed and pushed herself off the counter and threw the – now empty – soda at the trash.
“You know what they say,” she told the empty room as she left, “15th time’s the charm, right?”