Writer's BlockMature

This is the journey of one man. He is a writer called Damien Broadbent. A disruption occurs in his daily routine: writer's block.

What are writers seen as by the general public? Ghosts? Vampires? Dogs? Some retched creature whom scrounges off society? Unfortunately, as always, the public can never be as far from the truth. They are wrong. Writers are the dark knights. They can win or lose an election for somebody, change perception of one part of society or even create a hype about something. "The pen is mightier than the sword" is 100% accurate.


The computer screen was blank. The cursor fading in and out. The sound of every component in the terminal was whirring away. Silence.

The worst possible pain in the world is the concept of writer's block. Your mind is brilliant but at the same time, completely stupid and useless. Your mind can store thousands - nay - millions of lexis and vocabulary yet it cannot put them in a presentable and calculated order. The file name "COLOUR/BLIND" was bold in the top of the word processor but that was it. Nothing else. A title.

It is very easy to procastronate. If someone is a writer, the best thing they can do is to disconnect the internet; your attention span weakens. Should I play this game? Should I talk to somebody on Facebook? Should I watch pornography? Everything that the computer can explore is done except writing what is needed. If this was done is any other workplace, you would get fired on the spot but it is acceptable if you are a freelance writer.

You can wander around helplessly, reciting Shakespeare for inspiration and listening to epic music like "Live and Let Die" for the buzz but nothing can stop it. I, Damien Broadbent, was stuck. It was only a three minute film, for Christ's sake! £5000 was being invested into it and the trust of your seniors should egg you on but yet you tweet your life story to 12 followers in a maximum of 140 characters.

Procastronation and writer's block are the worst demons in the entire world. Forget cancer and sins of the skin. Satan can be a bit of a bastard to writers, can't he?

The End

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