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I Don't Know What To Write About!
I do not know what to write about! I am sitting at my desk with a few sheets of
paper and a pencil. Sweat is dripping from my hair onto my jeans. I have been sitting
here for at least twenty minutes; and still nothing has passed through my empty,
thoughtless head. My paper is as blank as the walls of a cell, and my pencil has yet to
make a mark. The light from my lamp is irritating my tired eyes. My L.A piece was
due tomorrow, but not even that could motivate me. My head cannot produce any
quality thoughts. I begin to doodle a small face with slanted eyebrows and a goatee
in the left margin of my paper, hoping for inspiration; but none comes. I stare at it for
some time. The doodle’s teasing glare seems to taunt me in my distress. I bang my head
on the desk, somehow trying to bash some clever story ideas or descriptive words into
my head. My plan fails. I just end up with a sore head and a broken heart. I sit back in my
seat and sigh. There is no way I’m going to get this piece in by tomorrow. My forehead
practically begins to bleed. It’s probably the sweat now pouring down my face and the
pain from whacking my head on the desk. I begin to sketch a paragraph but erase it.
It just isn’t good enough. My hands begin to shake from exhaustion. I yawn as my door
creaks open slightly. My dog creeps through and jumps onto my bed. I sit down next to
her and stroke her hair. Perhaps she could inspire me. She wags her stubby tail and
begins to lick my hand. I smile. She could always make me happy even in the darkest of
times. I sit back down at my desk and look at the paper.
“Listen, you,” I say. “I want you to be filled! I only have a little time left. You had
better be done when I’m finished with you, got it?” Of course, the paper and my small
doodle just stare back at me; but it satisfies my irritation. I scratch my head and look at
the clock. It’s already 10:00! I think frantically and my mind races.
Baseball? No. Fishing? Uh-uh. Adventures of Barney and friends?
Okay, I’m probably kidding myself on that last one. But I swear, I almost go with it.
In frustration, I grab my hair and yank with all my might.
I don’t know what to write about! I don’t know what to write
about!! I don’t know what to write about!!!!!!!!!!!As if heaven had been listening to my thoughts and granted some wild mind-powers to
me, it hits me. All this time, I had been worrying about not knowing what to write about;
but it was exactly that which I should write about! Let me explain. I had been nearing
ripping the hair right off my head, but it was exactly that and the other events that
happened during my tantrum that I should write about! In other words, I should write
about not knowing what to write about! The answer had been with me the entire time,
taunting me in front of my nose. I am relieved but at the same time very pissed at myself.
With new knowledge, an idea, and a pencil, I begin to write the experiences of
this night onto my page.
By 10:31, my piece is in my hand, my eraser burning from overuse. The night
may not be my favorite, but my L.A piece was finished. I can’t believe it took that long
to think of something so obvious! It was a very tiring night, and I later crashed and
burned from exhaustion, but I got an A on that piece! My terrible night turned out to be a
good one after all.
(a special thanks goes out to Mr. Doodle.)
Hoffman Estates, Illinois
La Vergne, Tennessee
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