In Which I Write A Scene About Myself Writing A Scene

In Which I Write A Scene About Myself Writing A Scene

  I sat staring at a blank sheet of paper. White. So bright that it hurt my eyes to look at it for too long without blinking. Think! My hands bunched up into fists and pounded my desk, which shook under the force. My cup of tea splashed over the rim and dribbled down the side and slowly crept toward my paper. I flexed my fingers and tilted my head from side to side, trying to get the juices flowing. I felt dead. I let out a deep breath, took up my pen in my hand, placed it gently at the top left corner of the page. I pushed down, a blotch of ink soaking into the paper and spreading a circle of ink around the nib. Then the impossible happened – I started writing.     

2 thoughts on “In Which I Write A Scene About Myself Writing A Scene

Comments are closed.

Comments are closed.