I sat down at my desk, pen in hand and paper in front of me. "Alright," I said letting out a deep sigh, "What to write about?
My mind was blank. I was unable to garrison my thoughts and process them onto my paper. My mind was now consumed by the venom known as Writer's Block. This inhuman mental disease flooded through my head, easing any possible thought I would even consider slightly mediocre.
The assignment was simple: Write a short story with a hero and a villain. At first I thought that it would be easy. I didn't expect to become infected! This was pure torture; I wanted a story that would just flow and be a success, not attempting to make it "cool" or "mind-blowing awesome". If I tried to do that, I'd feel like I would be making myself look and sound really stupid.
I put my pen on my paper. In my horrid, chicken-scratch handwriting, I began to write something. Anything would do.
"Sparky passed through the city streets, the package in his arms. The constant fear of being discovered was always hovering in a black cloud over his head."
I stopped. What was this crap? Sparky? That name was God-awful! The plot I had just set up had obviously been used hundreds upon hundreds of times. That's way more than one too many!
I crumbled the piece of paper up, threw it away, and started fresh. Now the Writer's Block disease was growing inside my head. Normally I have a battalion of thoughts and ideas. Now they were all gone. With a new, fresh piece of paper, I stared at it, lost and incapable to write.
I heard someone in the classroom talking about the child development class. All those kids… That gave me an idea that was just barely mediocre!
"Mrs. Flanderson was well known for her overabundance of kin in her house. Her husband left her with her twenty-five…"
I ripped the paper in half and then into fourths, eights, sixteenths, and thirty-seconds. Worthless. I slammed my head down on my desk, stressed out and sick of having no worthy ideas. That idea was just a more severe version of Cheaper by the Dozen. Another plot that was over used. And where was my hook? Twenty-five kids is stupid!
"Damn you, Writer's Block…" I growled, frustrated and sick of this assignment.
I couldn't believe it. I was losing to Writer's Block! This villain was winning! This was a fatal conflict that I had to solve sooner or later. Would I just give up or-
Villain… Conflict… I then got an idea. Instantly, the fatal disease disappeared and was locked into a dark corner of my head. I would write about the conflict I just experienced with Writer's Block! In the end, I win!