The Tickle of Interest
A story idea wafts into your head. You dabble with it, purely as a mental exercise. It's a wisp of a notion...not much more.

The Rush of Enthusiasm
It could work, though. It could actually work, if you wanted to put the effort in. Because this, and this, and this could happen and maybe that could happen and it could even be interesting.

The Writer's Cramp of Inspiration
It does work! Lookit this! It's all coming together and all the pieces are fitting! Writing's such an amazing thing....

The Curse of Creation
Quick...get it all down on paper before it disappears. No time to work or bathe or do laundry or clean house and I eat too much anyhow.

Write! Write!

The Dawning of Doubt
I'm not sure about that bit. Or that bit. Maybe...but I don't know.

Oh, well. Press on....

The Flicker of Hope
Those bits aren't that bad. Let's delete that one and re-write this one and flag that other one to worry about later. That one's nothing to write home about, but I'll leave it in, for now. It could be salvageable.

The Heaping of Contempt
That bit is just garbage, and that other one isn't much better. Flag those to be re-written or deleted. And that page and that page and that page. And that section.

The Determination
I'll beat this thing into shape, if I have to.

Maybe I should change the POV? Or the setting? Highlight that bit and that bit and that bit. They can be fixed. All it takes is a bit of work. Right?

The Derision
Wotta load o'crap. There are some decent bits, but most of it was wrong from the beginning. It was a dumb idea, made worse by sloppy execution.

Highlight all the words, sentences, paragraphs, and scenes that don't work.

What's left? The title?

Hack.

The Onset of Desperation
I wrote fifty pages and I got two decent lines?

Maybe if I change the POV back? Or have it narrated by the turtle? Maybe it should be set in ancient Crete?

Maybe it's the names of the OCs that are wrong? Maybe they should be alliterative? But alliterative with what? The four seasons? No, too obscure. The names of my favorite authors? No, that's just dumb. How about body parts? Freddie Fingers. Neddy Nose. Peter....no, no...that's not it.

Maybe if I buy a new pen to write with? Or maybe if I sit in a different chair? Or print on light-blue paper? Or only write when I'm wearing fuzzy bedroom slippers?

Duck and Weave
Time to write. Here I am. Pen. Paper. Light. Chair.

Why does my chair have that squeak when I sit like this? It doesn't do it when I sit like this, though. I wonder if I have any WD40?

40...40...409. I should clean the bathroom. The shower's okay, but the sink is disgraceful. As are the counters.

Counters...counters...counting. I should take that bag full of change to the bank, before it gets too heavy to carry. I wonder how much is in it? Could be forty dollars, I'll bet.

Bet...bet...Blackhawk. I wonder if we should go up to the mountains over Thanksgiving? It could be a fun thing to do with the day. I wonder how busy it will be?

Be...be...bee. Why is there always one bee flying around our balcony, no matter what time of year it is?

No, no, I'm supposed to be writing. What I need to do is re-watch some episodes. I need a TV-VCR player here in my bedroom, so I can watch the episodes whenever I need to. I have space for it...sort of. I mean, I'd find space for it. Not sure where.

Where...wear...underwear. I'm wearing entirely the wrong kind of underwear. You can't write wearing cotton, everyone knows that. Silk tap pants, that's the key.

Don't own any. Maybe I need to go shopping?

I could buy some earplugs, too.

When did the man upstairs open a bowling alley in his living room?

I can't believe I've been sitting here for two hours and I haven't written a word.

Mockery
Have you ever thought of bird-watching? Nice, healthy, outdoor hobby. If you fall out of a tree and break your arm, no one would expect you to do any writing.

Not that you could call this writing. It's more like an exorcism. Casting out the foul demons of delusion. I mean, how can the fantasy persist, in the face of all the evidence to the contrary, that you ever had an original or interesting thought in your life?

(Also, have you actually met these characters? Because this story doesn't read like you have any idea who they are.)

The Assignment of Blame
It's the airport's fault. Why do they route jets to fly over my apartment? I can't hear myself think!

And those kids outside my window, what's up with all that noise they've been making for the past forty-two hours? I can't write smut with the sounds of six-year olds giggling in my ears! Shouldn't they be in schools or reformatories or something?

Do those stupid birds have to make so much racket? I was just about to figure out how to fix that scene and they drove the idea completely out of my head with all that cawing and hooting and quacking. Why can't they breed quieter birds?

How dare my roommate say 'hello' to me at just that moment! I'm sure I was about to have a brilliant thought! I could feel it happening! And now it's gone! Gone! It's her fault.

Why do I hear my mother's voice in my brain, telling me that a pile of clean laundry is the only appropriate way to end a weekend? I have enough clean socks to last until Wednesday, Mom. Get away from me! Someone make her shut up...the characters might be trying to talk to me.

Why did the man upstairs open a bowling alley in his living room?

Sneering
Hack.

Resignation
Oh, well. Might as well write that last bit. I certainly need the practice.

The End
Never again.

Never, never, never again.