Hello, Friday Fiction Fans! Have you ever wondered what writers do when they’re stuck? Sometimes the words just won’t move from the mind to the paper. The advice freely given is to just write anything, getting words on paper. Here is a fun super-short story I wrote during a time of what is unaffectionately known as writer’s block…
The Assignment
I picked up my pen, then set it down again. I wandered into my study, plopped down at the computer, and leaned back in my black leather office chair. My assignment, should I decide to accept, was to write a historical for tonight’s monthly meeting of the Lawrence County Writer’s Guild.
The historical novels I mainly read ran took place from the 1920s until now. I groaned. At least I didn’t lose the draw and get stuck with romance. I’ve never been good at writing about love. But I had to finish the assignment.
I shrugged my shoulders and turned my neck side to side. Lately, my time at the computer stretched into hours and another project wasn’t helping. But I couldn’t let the Guild down. They depended on me.
In the corner, on a coat rack, hung my trusty Fedora. Maybe that would help me get into character. An Indiana-Jones-type adventure with a handsome guy, evil villains, and a temple maybe.
Nah. Not today. I just wasn’t in the mood. I glanced at the top of my computer desk. Jeremiah 29:11 in a rustic frame stared down at me. Hmm. A Biblical fiction. I could imagine Jeremiah and his struggles with people who wouldn’t listen to him. Now that was something I could relate to. He went through a lot of grief. I could have the Guild weeping tonight at the Mexican restaurant.
Better not do that.
I spied my reproduction record player, yes, I’m that old, across the room. A Barry Manilow album sits within view. How about a ’70s disco scene complete with a hunky guy dancing in a white suit and me with Farrah Fawcett hair?
Nope. It’s been done.
I glanced at my phone. 5 o’clock. Oh, no. I needed to leave in thirty minutes and I wasn’t even dressed. Heavy sigh. More groaning. More shaking of my head. What’s a woman to do when she can’t get it all together? I positioned my fingers on the keyboard and began to type.
It was a dark and stormy night…
