This, she thought to herself, is uncomfortable. Bloody uncomfortable.
Those lines might have been really good but sounded trashy. Only because…because…she gave up.
I have writer’s block even before I’ve become a writer!!!
…she spoke to an empty house, immediately feeling a little sillier. No one in real life did that soliloquy-thing. People in books did things like that. The kind of books she wanted to write.
She resigned herself to more silent soliloquy.
What’s the trouble?
The trouble is really that I’m afraid of what I’ll end up writing if I do write.
When did you start to get so self-conscious?
When the attention began, that’s when.
Oh shut up.
Ah well, she surmised, why does it need to be perfect in the first draft itself. In fact, why does it need to be perfect at all?
Because you’ll never be in peace unless it is.
Well okay. But not the first draft. After all, only God makes creations perfect in the first attempt. And even he messes up sometimes.
And suddenly, despite the overused, tired phrase…..she smiled to herself in the darkness.
You and me, baby, haven’t been really alone for a long time. Missed me?
…she told her keyboard. And meant every word of it.