Wiffle Waffle

The frustration of knowing there's something there but not being able to write is quite... frustrating, to be honest. It doesn't help when you have people at your ear saying they've written more than you, that you should be writing, that if you wrote more, you wouldn't have a problem... but that didn't solve the fact that she had to write one now, before sleep, before uni the next day, before a long weekend... and the inspiration wasn't really there at all. But the words still tumbled out. What if she were to write, like that exercise they had to do last week, without stopping? Just whatever nonsense came to your head? What a boring few dailies that would be. She still didn't know what to write, and yet she could see a paragraph fully formed above. It was strange, that. A yawn escaped her, and the music drummed, and there was a blue flashing on the screen. She would have to leave this window... this site... and return again tomorrow. Pointless load of waffle.

[171 words]