Alice Smith sits in front of her computer, about to write. Suddenly, her computer freezes. She can’t think. A pain shoots through her brain — a writing blockage immobilizes her.
The white screen of death gives her the evil eye. Her brain shuts down, as the room spins.
She passes out onto the floor, triggering a right-brain auto responder that alerts the library.
An Emergency Writing Technician (EWT) unit is dispatched to her home and takes her to the library.
Alice’s brainwaves flatline…
Rhymes with flatline: Align, alkyne, blue line, blush wine, bovine, bustline, byline, canine, Einstein . .
An EWT worker repeatedly zaps her brain.
Damn it! I’m losing her.
Alice slips into darkness. Weightless, her soul rises from her body into a brightening void.
At the end of the void in the biography section of the library, she meets Jack Smith, her great, great, great grandfather, who wrote obituaries for the local newspaper.
It’s time to go back and finish your novel.
But it is so peaceful here. I can finish it here.
It’s supposed to be peaceful. It’s a library. But grouchy old men and women meet here every day for their book club and speak loudly because they are hard of hearing.
I could wear headphones.
It wouldn’t be the same thing. You’d only be writing in theory, not in practice. You must go back.
But I hate my protagonist.
You’ll figure it out.
But it’s hard work.
Bushisms won’t work here. Now be gone!
He turns on the Dyson Soul Sucker 300.
But I voted for John Kerry-ry, ry, ry…
A deafening sound overwhelms her. Her soul is yanked from the bright light in the biography section to the dark void in her brain. Her body jerks. With a gasp, she opens her eyes.
Moral of this story: You can revive your writing if it flatlines.
- If you’re stuck, take a break and work on something else.
- If you’re stuck up to your neck in quicksand, call for help – preferably someone with a strong rope and a trusted set of eyes with twenty-plus vision – and have him/her take a look-see.