I stared at the cursor. Blinking. Staring back at me. Mocking me.
I drummed my fingers lightly along the surface of my keyboard. While the tapping sound was satisfying, no letters were popping up on the screen. Words were not forming, therefore paragraphs weren’t existing, and there were no other pages except the first, blank one.
The deadline was tomorrow. The clock was ticking. I sighed in frustration. My laptop hummed in laughter.
The prompt was to write about a personal experience. Something that’s a hurdle for you in your life. So, just like that, I began to write about not being about to write.
It was for a writing magazine. They would understand.