Writer’s Block
Writing can be so hard sometimes. Making so many letters group into the right words, which again group themselves into the right sentences, which form the right paragraphs. Sheesh! The probability of a particular sentence arising has to be 1 in a billion trillion million gazillion. The 26 letters must arrange themselves in the right words. There are about a million possible combinations, so having the right combinations is a miracle. And then, think about it. Out of the million or so possible combinations, one has to choose just seven or eight, and again combine them just perfectly, so you get a coherent, grammatically correct sentence that not only makes sense, but is interesting. But that isn’t the whole thing. You must take these sentences, these perfect sentences you made, and put them together just perfectly, to make the paragraphs and stories correct. If the arrangement is even slightly wrong, the perfectness of the sentences is ruined, and the whole thing collapses. Imagine a house, made of perfect bricks, fired for just the right amount of time, and just the right shape and size. If even one of them isn’t cemented properly, it might fall out and the house will collapse. A story is kind of like that. Just a little tiny mistake here or there, and the magic is gone.
But then again, it’s really easy sometimes. Sometimes, the letters just do it themselves, the words form sentences with just a little urging from your part. They do most of the work, most of the time, and you’re just there to supervise and catch the occasional error.
But sometimes. Well. Most of the time, the words are stubborn little creatures, lazy, making me drag them around to where they should be, refusing to do it themselves. And they won’t even help me decide where to put them, they just make me do it. Well, as I already said, that’s pretty hard to do. And unfortunately, this is me trying to do just that. And I can tell it’s failing really badly.
Okay, I’m stopping now. This is too hard.
The Sunset Path 