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Writer's Block (standard:humor, 1233 words)
Author: Rene AmadorAdded: Feb 11 2002Views/Reads: 1989/1210Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
It hard enough trying to get an idea without so many distractions and obstacles.
 



Writer's Block by Rene Amador - rewrite 

Victor had writer's block for the past two weeks.  Usually when it
happened, all he had to do was go to the movies and get an ‘idea.'  
Come on, this was Hollywood after all.  All movies had borrowed ideas 
so it really wasn't stealing, but this was the worst case of writer's 
block known to man.  Victor took the day off of work to get an idea, 
any idea. 

All day he sat at his desk.  The computer sat there with a blank
document page.  Victor would occasionally type something out, but after 
fifteen lines or so, he decided that it wasn't worth the effort.  He 
dragged the cursor over the words and deleted them.  That was his whole 
day.  He got up and strolled back and forth in the living room for a 
break hoping that a nugget would come to him.  His fingers rested on 
the keyboard ready to move, but nothing happened.<?xml:namespace prefix 
= o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /> 

He decided that afternoon a night out on the town would do the trick. 
He started to call his friends one by one.  None of them were home yet 
from work since it was a few minutes past five.  Then he remembered 
that Neil lived just upstairs on the eighth floor, two floors above 
Victor.  Since Neil started earlier in the day than the others, he 
figured that he would be home. 

Victor got to the door of 804 and knocked.  No answer.  He must have
knocked on the door harder than he thought because the door swung open 
into the apartment.  The door squeaked on the hinges and made the hair 
on the back of his neck stand up.  Victor stepped inside.  No one was 
home. 

He called out, "Neil.  Hey, Neil!"  Still no answer.  He made his way
into the kitchen hall when he heard a door to his left open.  It was 
Neil.  Stepping fresh out of the shower, he said, "Sorry if I scared 
you.  How did you get in?" 

"You left the door open again.  I could have been a homicidal maniac and
you could have been dead on the floor while I stole all of the twenty 
bucks you had in your wallet," Victor said. 

"Shows how much you know!  It's Friday, payday, remember?  Are you doing
anything tonight?" 

"Well, that's why I came up here."  Victor sat down on a chair in the
kitchen while Neil went into his bedroom and changed.  "What do you 
have planned tonight?" 

"Some people from work are thinking about meeting at the usual place and
then take it from there," Neil called out from the bedroom.  "You're 
welcome to tag along if you want." 

"Thanks.  Maybe I can get some ideas while I'm out.  Kill two birds with
one stone." 

"Do you mean to tell me that you STILL have that writer's block?  I
would have thought you would've been over it by now.  It's been, what, 
at least a week?" 

"Two weeks, but who's counting?"  This really made Victor melancholy as
he said this. 

"Well, just give me ten minutes." 

"Alright, just come downstairs when you're ready."  Victor then went
back to his apartment. 

As he walked into his place, Victor caught sight of his desk.  Pads of
yellow college rule paper sitting beside a laptop computer that blankly 
stared off into space.  The trashcan was filled to the top with used 
paper.  Pens and pencils scattered across the desktop.  His desk had 
been in disorder before but at least he had something completed.  There 
was purpose for the mess.  There was work to show for it.  The sight of 
the desk made him feel deflated and bland.  The past two weeks just 
felt like he was going through the motions without any effort on his 
part.  The amount of "work" he accomplished today made it feel even 


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