Another Writing Assignment

Gazing at a blank piece of paper, I feel vexed. Week after week I’m saddled with writing assignments. Nonstop. This time a challenge story. No ideas come to mind.

All of a sudden my mom strides into the kitchen. “How is the story coming along?” she asks as she ruffles my hair.

“Great,” I fib. “I just need to uh . . . uh,” I say as I search frantically for an end to that sentence. “First let me help you do . . . the dishes, yeah, the dishes,” I continue.

“Thanks for offering, but your sister already did them,” Mom responds.

“I can clean up my room,” I suggest eagerly, getting up from the chair.

“That can wait for now,” Mom replies, laughing.

“Dad always needs help with the garbage. I can be his assistant,” I offer, hoping this stall tactic will be the one that works.

“I think he can manage by himself,” Mom replies as a touch of annoyance creeps into her voice. “Now get going with your story.”

OK, OK, I think. I need to focus here. I place my head in my hands, feeling uninspired and lacking creativity. Maybe I could write about my being lost in the woods. Like the time I got separated from my Cub Scout pack and found my way back to the group using the stars as my guide. Or the time my sister locked herself in the bathroom, and how my family had to break down the door’s molding to get her out. Or the time I decided to build a one-thousand-piece beach puzzle where the pieces’ colors were completely earth tones. These ideas were OK but too boring.

“Is the story almost done?” Mom questions, placing her hand on my shoulder. Finally giving up, I tell her the truth.

“I have writer’s block, I admit, “and . . .” but then I stop. Suddenly, I get a phenomenal idea! I can write about having writer’s block! With that, I pick up my pencil and easily start filling the page with words.