Mellie always wanted to write when she didn’t have the time to do it. This curiosity always astounded her. She interrogated her brain on why it chose the worst times to have the best ideas.
She steeped her hands in the nasty soup of the kitchen sink. Her ideas grew more wonderful and concrete as she absently scrubbed the baked on mess from last night’s dinner. Of course, the best ideas always came when chipping away the remains of a macaroni dinner. The hard cheese tendrils stuck fast to the inner rim of the pot. She pressed down on the pad of fine wire and released the helpless dish from the food’s evil clutches.
After thirty minutes of intense contemplation and scrubbing, she rushed back to her room and unearthed her notebook and pen. She opened it to a blank page and held the pen aloft.
Suddenly, she didn’t quite know what to write. Or, more accurately, she had no idea of how to articulate her intense thoughts.
Well, perhaps…no. Maybe…but now that she thought about it.
She wrote down the first sentence.
Oh God! Now that she actually thought about it this idea was no good at all.
That urge to write deflated and she felt empty. Where had it gone?
Her brain mentally rolled on its head. It was too tired to go on. How can it pull off feats of imagination when it had no obvious impediments to spur it on?
Mellie tried to write something about the idea. At least to keep it in her thoughts for the future. Each pen stroke tired her exponentially. She would rather be watching tv. Reading a book. Just not writing. Anything but writing!