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Words will not come. I sit here staring at the majority of the page: a daunting white space.
I have twenty-one, now twenty-three, words, and it is not enough.
I want it to fill up my vision, and I want it to do so now. Yet words will not come, and so I write.
Q, W, E, R, T, Y, U… The order of the keyboard has always been so strange to me. I could never come to fully understand why they should be placed in such a way.
On a sheet I have next to me, I scribble a heart, then another, then another… The page is filled with hearts, but the one that is significant is still not halfway filled.
There is a list next to me. It contains 5000 words, good words, words to be known for the SAT.
But none are good enough. It would not make the story if I typed them all onto this page. So I ignore it, ignore those words that tell me I am not even close to being done.
I am a procrastinator.
I am a digresser.
I am a wordless, digressing procrastinator.
It seems right to write the name. It is what I am, for the story will not come and the words will not flow.
They should write themselves for me. I am only at 228, now 230 words, should I count numbers as words.
Really, they are not named words. Should three numbers combining to become one number, like the 2, 2, and 8 combination—should that be sufficient to say they are three numbers? Three words? Or, together as 228, would it only be one?
These questions do not help.
They don’t do a good job of filling the page! I have not gone three quarters! Even a page would suffice! Yet I don’t have my story. Just a girl’s thoughts.
Thoughts are not actions… Should a story not have the actions to be a story? It should. It would have the variety and the suspense and the captivation for a reader…
A reader would read and be boggled by the many things one can think of when aiming for another accomplishment.
The story would be blank of what they expect…
I should be ashamed of the ongoing ranting!
I should be embarrassed that I would say such atrocities!
I should be paying attention to the task at hand!
But I am still as I said I was: a wordless, digressing procrastinator.
And I have not come up with an idea or a character or an event… I have not thought of a setting or a time or a location… I have but thoughts.
And now I have filled up the entire page.