Wearing a face mask in public has been mandatory in light of the pandemic plaguing the world.
To some, it is seemed as a restraint to freedom. How can one breathe free when there is a piece of cloth plastered to their face, right? Yeah, well that free air might be rather infectious with something that is not freedom.
I don’t feel like writing today,
Words don’t seem to come my way,
The cursor keeps blinking away,
Nothing from my brain, hurray!
I mumble, and I grumble,
My fingers all a fumble,
This state I’m in, laughable,
On this block, I fall, stumble.
I guess I won’t be writing,
I’ll lounge around, reading,
Or catch up to some watching,
I am done with the typing.
I really should be doing something, but here I am procrastinating by writing. Haha…
If you like content like this, please hit that “Follow” button, if you haven’t yet, so you will get notified when I post. If you wish to support me in anyway, please consider checking out my Ko-Fi page, or my Patreon Page or drop by my redbubble shop.
Well, at least for me, I’d have to think about what I’m writing, tap it on a keyboard, and see what I have managed to string together. If it’s garbage, I’d start hitting the backspace faster than a monkey infected with the rage virus. If it somehow makes sense, the words stay on screen.
I heard a voice which rumbled like a rolling boulder. I looked to my left, I looked to my right, and I even looked above my shoulder, behind me. No one was there. The room where I have been sitting in front of the computer was as empty as a poor man’s wallet.
I poised my hands to begin typing. I cracked my knuckles and aimed my index finger to hit the first key.
“I said, what the hell are you doing?”
The voice rumbled once more.
“Hello?” I tried to speak to the disembodied voice. “I’m trying to work? Writing?”
“That blank screen does not look like work in progress to me…” It replied.
“I-I don’t know where to start.”
“Do you even have a story?”
“Yes, yes I do. It’s about this group of adventurers who – ”
The nerve. The disembodied voice in my room yawned loudly.
“Just hearing you talk about your plot is making me sleepy. My grandma can tell a more compelling story about her laundry.”
Despite being insulted, I was mildly intrigued. What could this compelling story about laundry be?
“I’d like to hear about this laundry story, if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind,” it said. “It’s a really good story, but I don’t feel like talking to you. And you have the balls to call yourself a writer…”
“Why, yes, I am a writer.”
“Then write, damn it. Show me some good stuff. Stop making excuses and just write. If you don’t know where to begin, then start at the very beginning.”
“B-but that would be a boring way of telling the story.”
“Do you even have a complete story? From top-to-bottom complete?”
I could not reply. Of course my story was not completed. I did not even know how the story will end.
“Your silence is enough. Work on the story first. If it is as interesting as you say it is, then perhaps a few editing tricks could be enough to make your work much more entertaining and interesting than a straight telling of the events.”
“Now, I’m going to go pester other authors. By the time I get back, you better have a complete story. Alright?”
I nodded, and instantly found myself testing if my keyboards were drool-proof.
If you found my content useful or interesting, please subscribe to my blog, or even share my works to others. It would be a great help in growing my blog, and I would really appreciate it. If you wish to support me in anyway, please consider checking out my Ko-Fi page, or my Patreon Page..