But wait, first I just need to…

Once upon a time in a far off southern land, on the verdant green slopes of a flat mountain there lived a storyteller. He really loved telling stories. The way words looked on a clean, flat, sparkling white page. The way characters came to life and made people laugh and cry and sing. The way worlds were raised and crumbled to the rattling tune of the keyboard. And then one day he started twatting about every time he sat in front of the computer and got nothing done. The end.

“That’s a bit harsh don’t you think?”

“No. Not really. You haven’t written anything decent for months. You just come in here, sit down, read stories, make witty comments on a forum and then write the occasional post so you can feel productive.”

“That’s not very fair you know. Some of them were pretty reasonable I reckon. And it’s not months.”

“March 24th. That’s either two clear months in old money or four months if you’re basing it on names. Either way you were a year younger the last time you wrote an actual story.”

“OK, that’s longer than I planned but still the blog posts have been…”

“Bah. You’ve sold out. There was a time when not a single picture would have found a home on your blog and now you throw them out like rice at a cheap wedding.”

“What about the poems?”

“A dozen words at a time? Whoopee. Well done you.”

“Thanks a bunch. You could be a bit more supportive you know, I’ve had a bloody long day and…”

“Wonk…wonk…wonkwonkwonk. You’ve just had a week’s holiday you lazy shitbag, during which time I might add the sum total of your output was another haiku that you had the fanciful idea of carving into the sand with a stick and then taking a picture of it.”

“In fairness there had been quite a bit of red wine that night.”

“Fine. I’ll let you remove your head from your arse this time around but it doesn’t change the fact that you need to write a story.”

“It’s just not working right now. I’ve started some and they haven’t gone anywhere and I’ve got a bunch of good ideas…if I just give myself some space it’ll happen.”

“Complete. And. Utter. Bollocks. If I just give myself some space? What are you, a human rom-com? What you need to do is write. Write well, write badly, write gibberish – who gives a toss – just write stuff.”

“I could start working on Rend again…”

“Great idea. A fantasy short story with a half decent main character, one reasonable visual line where he skids on a severed finger on a rain soaked cobbled street, no plot and no clue as to what you want to do with it. I’m sure reopening the document for the fifteenth time to write and delete fifty words again should fix it though.”

“Please. Don’t hold back. Speak your mind, in my mind or whatever. Fine, Rend can stay where he is for now.”

“Forever.”

“Fine. Maybe I should go back to the Kenny Dalglish one.”

“Look. I know it’s important to you to write a story about your childhood and your friend with muscular dystrophy who died, but trust me, that one is going to be a bitch and you’re not ready for it right now. Those first 500 words took forever and the first thing you’re going to do when you read them back is bin them.”

The storyteller sighed. His brain was right. The story in question was going nowhere faster than a fast-talking hamster could say “Shit! Look out! Black Hole!”

“Better. At least there was some humour in that.”

“It just…happened.”

“That’s my point. You just need to write stuff and see what happens. You’ve got a bunch of ideas jabbing at the inside of your head – just grab one, pull, and see what happens.”

“Like a game of mental Kerplunk?”

“Yes. Just like that. But with slightly squidgier marbles.”

“Great. I’ll get cracking then.”

“Nope. Not tonight sunshine. You’ve buggered about long enough. You’ve got work tomorrow and unless you get some sleep you’ll be back here tomorrow night bleating about having a had a long day and being so vewy vewy tired and pweeeeeeese bwain can I have a lickle lie down.”

“You really are a twat, d’you know that?”

“Of course I know. Blame my owner. Now get this posted so you can waste the time of anyone who stumbles across it because of some well chosen tags. Your followers will be fine – they’re used to you and the fact that you keep rehashing the same idea about struggling to write into a succession of meandering blog entries.”

“Fine. It’s done. I’m going to bed.”

“Bet you check your phone for likes and comments at least five times before you go to sleep you needy little bitch…”

And so the storyteller retired to his bed and slept the dreamless sleep of the content and unimaginative. Outside his window a squirrel tap-danced (as they tend to do when no one is watching) and the distant wail of a badger could be…zzzzzzz…snore…etc.

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4 thoughts on “But wait, first I just need to…

  1. Haha nice one!
    And also I’m stealing the idea with the stick and a haiku in the sand. This post about procrastiniking is as good as the other, which is great!

    Over and Out

    Who says over and out?

    I do.

    Voice in your head in reply to a voice in his head?

    I’ve said too much.Over and… just bye.
    Tobbe

    Liked by 1 person

    • Steal it at your leisure and pleasure my friend. I think you should call the voice in your head Roger so you can go all Airplane and start doing Roger/Over jokes. It’s making the voice in my head laugh already.

      Like

    • Thanks for stopping by and leaving a comment Mel – I see you’ve also started following my blog which I truly appreciate. Glad you enjoyed this post and I hope you’ll find other things you like in amongst my ramblings – will check out your blog as soon as I get a chance today. Cheers, Nik

      Like

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