Deep breath. Loosen the shoulders. Close your eyes and open them. “Dang it! Nothing.” The cursor blinks mockingly at me on my blank Microsoft Word document. I get up from my chair and walk around my room. Apparently, writing a novel is more difficult than I thought. Where’s the dog, I think to myself. I need a distraction.
I look under my bed and find my cotton ball Bichon Frise sleeping. “Sabbie,” I coo, “Sabbie wake up. I need a break.” She opens one bloodshot eye at me as if to say, “To need a break, you need to work.”
“Sabbie,” I repeat. “Sabbie.”
She ignores my pleas and turns her back to me. I sigh. Even the dog knows that I’ve written nothing.
I sit back down at my desk. Why did Microsoft think that it was a good idea to make the cursor blink? Quite frankly, it’s a little sadistic. Why don’t they just complete the image of humiliation by making a laughing emoticon be the cursor?
“Okay,” I say out loud. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, just write.” Just . . . just don’t start with “It was a dark and stormy night.” I pause. My fingers fly across the keyboard and type, “It was a dark and stormy morning.”