Writer’s Block – Part II


Writer’s Block – Part I

The paper is blank.

He continues to stare.

The paper is still blank.

He sighs.

There’s a secret. He was only going to hint at it. If only he knew what the secret was. Okay okay, he can do it.

He takes his pen, looks at the blank paper then write his new first line.

“They found his diary under his bed.”

This is good. This is good. This is intriguing. Right?

Okay, keep going.

“They found his diary under his bed. All the confessions he never dared to share, everything was on this notebook. His fears, his fantasies, his loves, his clients.”

Clients? Okay, he could work with that.

He turned to his precious notebook. “You have reached the second paragraph. How are you going to fill this one? Relax, you’re still on the first page. Most readers will stick with a story for at least the first page – but if it gets boring…”

“Boring” such a scary word. But this wasn’t boring, right?

“Bring in something new. Something that the central character is doing that is unusual – like hanging about in pouring rain. Why would anyone stand in pouring rain, unless there was some important reason that compelled them to?”

Something unusual. Pouring rain. But it makes no sense, he just wrote a guy with a diary and some clients. Is he meeting a client under the rain? This is getting confusing.

Okay so clients, secrets, diary, rain.

He sighs.

Maybe he should get some coffee. Get the ideas flowing. Yes, he should do that. Coffee, ideas, inspiration, good story. That’s the plan! Great plan! Okay, coffee.

He leaves the desk and walks to the kitchen. He stands for a second. Coffeeshop it is.

End of Part II

Hey again, I think this story will keep going for one more chapter. I don’t know what you thought of it (it was actually hard than part I). Thank you for reading and I would like to also thank one more time the WRITERS BLANK PAGE ELIMINATOR – from where I took the liberty to borrow their tips and use them in this story. 

Writer’s Block – Part I

The paper is blank.

He continues to stare.

The paper is still blank.

He sighs.

He hates these kinds of situations. He had no theme, no idea, no plot, not even the first name of his main character. He opens the first drawer of his desk and takes out his most precious notebook. He opens it and searches for the page with the title “Writer’s Block”. He hates this term but he always knew that one day he would eventually need the tips written in here.

“Write about a secret. Slowly give out the information.”

Okay, a secret. He can do that.

A secret.

He takes his pen, looks at the blank paper and writes down the first sentence.

“Mary had a deep secret but she had to tell her fiancé, Joseph.”

He laughs. Joseph and Mary, he’s heard that one before.

He turns back to the notebook: “Make the first paragraph easy to digest, we need to make the reader want to continue to read. Make your first line intriguing.”

Is his first line intriguing?

He stares at it for a moment. Maybe. Or Maybe not.

He sighs then scratches the first line of the paper and takes brand new blank one.

He stares at the new paper.

The paper is still blank.

He sighs.

He stands up as his mind replays the same words: “A secret. An intriguing first line. An intriguing secret.”

He walks to the front door, puts his coat on.

He’ll be back to his blank paper but for now, he’ll settle for a good breakfast.

End of Part I

Hey guys, this story is obviously not finished yet. Part II will be up later this week. I like having to continue a story where it is left of, so I’ll see how this one unfolds. Thank you for reading and I would like to also thank the WRITERS BLANK PAGE ELIMINATOR – from where I took the liberty to borrow their tips and use them in this story. 



We were both standing by the door. None of us moved or talked for the past ten minutes.

“Are you ready?”

He didn’t answer.



“Are you ready?”


He clearly wasn’t. I take his hand and stand in front of him.

“I know you’re nervous. I am too.”

“I’m not nervous. I’m okay.”


He took out his keys and opened the door. He let me through first – always a gentleman – then closed the door behind him. The TV was on, we could hear it.

“They’re in the living room.”

I nod. He put his keys on the counter then looked at his reflexion in the mirror. He ran his hand into his hair then turned to me and smiled. I held him in my arms for a few seconds then kissed his forehead. He whispered:

“Don’t worry about it too much darling.”

I let him go gently but kept both of my hands on his back and whispered back:

“I want you to know that I’m so proud of you.”

He smiled, it was a little forced this time.

“I felt so much better when I did it.”

“But it’s different here. Mine are not like yours.”

“I know but it will be okay. I’m with you.”

He smiled again.

“Let’s get this shit done then.”

I shake my head.

“You don’t have to, you know? Definitely not with this attitude.”

“Oh really? We’ve been having this conversation for months and you’ve made it clear that we didn’t have a choice.”

“That’s not true. You can do it later if you’re not ready now…”

“Look I’m not going to argue with you right now…”


We both turned to his mother leaving the living room holding a tray with two empty mugs. Jasmine tea, probably. His parents always drank Jasmine tea. No sugar. Three cups a day, at least. Jasmine tea always smells nice. I like his parents very much.

“Hey mom.”

“Hello Mrs Williams.”

“Hello Tim.”

I smiled to her and silently prayed she wouldn’t hate me in the next few minutes. Ray took the tray from her hands and put it on the counter.

“What’s wrong honey?” she asked in her sweet voice.

Ray – always the drama king – remained silent and lead her back to the living room. I quickly followed. His father was still watching TV, he turned to us and smiled.

“What’s with the long faces boys?”

“I caught them ‘not wanting to argue'”, Mrs Williams joke.

Her husband giggled: “Well neither do we.”

Ray stood in front of his father as his mother sat on the couch next to her husband.

“Come on then, have seat both of you. We’ll make some more tea!”

Ray remained silent for little more as I came closer to him. And I stood there next to him and waited, my heart skipping beat after beat.

“Mom, dad. I’ve got something very important to tell you.”

Conversations Over Coffee

man and woman in the kitchen
http://www.freepik.com Designed by Teksomolika / Freepik

“We always fight on Fridays.”
“We do?”
“Yup, which is shame because we always have great plans for the weekend.”

“I never realised how much I look like my mother until the funeral.”

“I like your tatoo.”
“Yeah me too.”
“What does it mean?”
“Oh it’s a long story… a long dark story.”
“I have time.”

“I was thinking of using African percussions for the chorus.”
“Yes that could work too.”
“Like the Djembe would be nice with your lyrics.”

“The question is do YOU have the strength to succeed?”

“What will you be having today?”
“I’m trying to cut off the coffee.”
“We have a large selection of tea.”
“Mmm no not today.”
“Fresh juices?”

“And he was like: When I talk, you listen.”
“No way!”
“I know right!”
“What did you do?”
“What else could I have done? I took my stuff and told him to get a life.”

“Are we humans better at creating or destroying?”

“Dogs or Cats?”
“Dogs obviously.”
“Facebook or Twitter?”
“Watching sports or playing?”
“Playing… on Play Station!”
“Mac or PC?”
“Harry Potter or Lord of The Rings?”
“Potterhead for life!”
“Burgers or salad?”
“Burgers. I’m not stupid!”
“Black & White or Colors?”
“Bath or shower?”
“Both with you.”


In a Perfect World

On his twelve’s birthday, Mark was stuck in the elevator for two hours and missed his own party.

On his graduation day, Mark fell down the stairs and broke his left arm and hurt his back.

On his first day at college, Mark had his appendix removed – after it exploded in his stomach.

On Valentines Day, Mark’s date never showed up.

On his twentieth birthday, Mark smashed his brand new car into a wall.

On his first day at work, Mark broke the flush of the office’s toilet.

On his first date with his future wife, Mark’s grandmother passed away.

On his wedding day, Mark hurt himself while shaving.

On a Sunday night, Mark accidentally dropped his iPhone in the toilet.

Mark is unlucky.

In a perfect world, Mark should have been lucky. But this was not perfect world because:

On his son’s birthdate that year, Mark was running to the hospital from work. Mark waited impatiently and crossed the street when the light was green. But the taxi driver never saw him.

Coffee Share

– If you could have coffee right now with any person dead or alive, who would you pick?

– Is it possible to change the drink?

– What?

– I don’t like coffee.

– Oh okay. Well that’s fine, you can have tea instead…

– I don’t drink tea.

– It’s really irrelevant. It’s just a metaphor…

– Hot chocolate maybe…

– Seriously I just mean that if you were given…

– But drinking hot chocolate is rather childish!

– If you were given the chance to have a conversation with…

– Do you think alcohol would be suitable for such an occasion?

– Are you even listening to me?

– Like a beer or a cup of wine?

– What?

– Whiskey definitely.

– You are completely missing the point here.

– You know what?

– What?

– I think I’d rather have dinner instead.