Sigh. Sal stared at the blank screen, hoping for some inspiration. She sighed again. As she sat, Sal began to wish she had something else more crucial to do. Even a school assignment would be better than sitting here with no idea how to even begin.

Sal’s mind drifted, wondering how her friends had managed to convince her to agree to writing something every month. Someone had come up with the brilliant idea to start a blog to encourage each other to keep writing. That had not been so bad. In fact, some really great stories and poems had been written by several very talented writers.

Unfortunately, Sal’s friends had not left it at that. Someone had suggested that they create a schedule which would give each person an assigned time to post. So Sal, having joined the friends in the beginning, now found herself required to write much more often than she really wanted to. Regretably, Sal knew that she needed to post tomorrow and that she had no more time left to procrastinate.

Sal sighed for the third time, bringing her attention back to the work at hand. She wondered what type of composition she should write. Should it be a short story? Or maybe a poem? Leaning towards a simply short poem or maybe even a haiku, Sal began to brainstorm ideas. However, she struggled searching her surroundings for inspiration.

“Sal, are you going to come get a brownie?” called her sister. Sal sat up and grinned. A perfect excuse to stop the search for a workable idea.

When she returned half an hour later, Sal continued brainstorming. How about a story about people. No, people were overrated. Maybe she could write about an animal. A dog? No, dogs were much too common. A pig? No, pigs were way too boring. A squid! That was a great idea, but then Sal realized how difficult it would be to read a story about squid, however unique they are, much less fun to write. A lion? No, lions were completely unoriginal. A whale? No, whales were too uninteresting. Maybe animals were not such a great idea after all.

Sal glanced around the room looking sadly around for something that would snag her interest. There was her spotlessly clean desk, her shelves of books, sizable school books, and her stash of skittles. Nothing out of the ordinary.

After what seemed hours of staring around at the room, Sal sat up. She realized that there was no reason that what she wrote had to be fiction. She quickly grabbed her computer and began to type so speedily that it sounded as if a swarm of sheep were stampeding through the room.

Sigh. Susan stared at the blank screen, hoping for some inspiration. She sighed again. As she sat, Susan began to whish she had something else more crucial to do. Even a school assignment would be better than sitting here with no idea how to even begin…