Chatterbox: Inkwell

TARDISrider sat at the computer, fingers hovering over her keyboard. She typed a few hesitant lines before dropping her hands again, sending a line of gibberish scurrying across the page as her hands crashed the keyboard. Oh, the agony. It was even worse than last time.

Inspiration. That was all she needed, and that was all she lacked. Just a flash, a spark, a tiny, minitaure flicker! But no. There was nothing. She stared sullenly at the window, halfway hoping somebody wearing a big 'INSPIRATION' t-shirt would pop up and offer to sell her some for half'-off. The only thing that popped up was a squirrel.

"Haven't got any inspiration for half-price, have you?" TARDISrider suggested. The squirrel flicked its tail and skittered away. TARDISrider sighed and leaned back. She needed a big forum of writers who could talk to each other on a daily basis without any trouble. Her eyes lit up.

"The Chatterbox!" she gasped eagerly. "I could even write it in the form of a book. At least I'd feel like I ws getting something done." So TARDISrider saved her pages of script and opened up the CB. She proceeded to the Inkwell and typed a new thread. At the bottom of this thread, she wrote a question, a single question. It was a question that philosopher sat for hours over, pondering until their heads exploded. It was a question yet to be answered, even more evasive than the name of the Doctor. It was the question, dear CBers, that had plagued writers for centuries, asking about the cursed deisease known to all, scriptwriters, comic book writers, novelists, even the innocent ten year old entering for a Cricket contest. It was, CBers, the question that far too few knew the answers to. It was the question killing TARDISrider:

CBERS, HOW DO YOU BEAT WRITER'S BLOCK?