Blocked

Charlotte sat in front of her laptop, the open word document staring back at her; empty. She sighed as she placed her fingers on the keys once again, in an attempt to write something, but as hard as she tried nothing came to mind. She sighed. Charlotte was a writer, she had been ever since she was ten and discovered the writing style of Lewis Carroll. When Charlotte was eighteen she wrote her first book, which she had based on her friends and their trials and tribulations throughout secondary school. Charlotte had completed her English degree at Trinity before she had enough courage to send it to a publisher. She received twelve rejection letters before one publishing company decided to take a chance on it. It was on the best sellers list for six weeks.

Since that day Charlotte had written seven more books in her ‘Vaseline Girls’ series and after ten years it was finally completed but Charlotte was having a hard time coming up with something else to write. In college Charlotte was bursting with ideas, every one she had written down in her notebook but looking at them now Charlotte couldn’t seem to bring any of them to fruition. She was stuck. No book or story would come to her, and while her publisher Daniel was giving her all the time she needed for her next novel she felt as if she was letting down the people who took a chance on her all those years ago. She couldn’t even write a twenty five hundred word story for God sakes.

Charlotte sighed again as she leaned back in her chair, picked up her Disneyland mug and took a sip of her stone cold hot chocolate. Charlotte had never had a block before, usually she could just write, about everything and anything, but now it was like there was nothing left in her head, nothing creative, nothing amazing. She didn’t like the feeling.

Sticking her bare feet into her favourite pair of old worn brown Uggs, Charlotte started to pace her spacious living room hoping that this slight bit of exercise would get her juices working. It didn’t. Almost an hour later Charlotte was still blank, now the empty document was taunting her, she felt the urge to throw her laptop off the table and onto the ground but she resisted, she’d done that once before, back in college, and it had only hindered the writing process.

In a hint of desperation Charlotte picked up her cordless phone and punched in the familiar numbers. She waited as the phone rang and finally after about ten rings Nora answered the phone.

“Yeah?” Nora answered groggily, clearly Charlotte’s phone call had woke her up. Charlotte bit her bottom lip, she felt guilty she hadn’t even checked the time before she called her friend.

“I’m stuck!” Charlotte said suddenly, she had been there for more than a dozen of Nora’s late night phone calls and in Charlotte’s mind it was time for Nora to return the favour.

Nora Smith had been one of Charlotte’s best friends since secondary school, she was also one of the people Charlotte had based her book on and over the past fifteen years Nora unluckiness with romance had kept Charlotte up a lot of nights.

“Char?” Nora asked just as blearily as before, “Do you know what time it is?” there was a hint of anger to her voice. Charlotte looked over her shoulder to the clock that hung on the wall, the hour hand was at three and the minute was a six. Charlotte winced. It was half three in the morning and Nora had work at seven.

“Sorry,” Charlotte muttered as she waited for Nora to collect her bearings, Nora wasn’t a morning person, in fact at ever sleepover Charlotte and her friends had ever had always resulted in a terrifying game of Rock, Paper, Scissors in the morning to see who would have the daunting task of waking Nora for breakfast. Charlotte instinctively rubbed her cheek where Nora had once accidently hit her when she had to wake her up.

“Okay, I’m half awake, what’s wrong?” Nora asked, she didn’t sound awake.

“I can’t write anything,” Charlotte explained feeling extremely bad when she said it, there was nothing worse then for a writer to admit she had writers block.

“I thought you didn’t have a deadline for your new book,” Nora said, “I thought Daniel told you to take your time so the new series could be as good as the Vaseline Girls.”

“He did but this isn’t for my new book, Dan thought it would help me if I was a part of this charity book thing, you know short stories by Stephenie Meyer, Meg Cabot etcetera, etcetera, I only have to write two and a half thousand words and I’ve got nothing.”

“Oh,” Nora said, “Well are you doing you’re whole “Writing Mode” thing?”

Charlotte’s brow furrowed and she asked what Nora meant by that. Nora explained that whenever she had seen Charlotte write she was always wearing her Minnie Mouse pyjamas, had a cup of hot chocolate and her hair in pigtails. Charlotte looked herself up and down. She was wearing the pyjamas, she had a cup of hot chocolate and her blonde hair was tied into two pigtails. Charlotte never knew Nora was so observant.

“Yeah, I guess I am but Nora nothing is coming to me, I’m seriously blank, I have never been blank, I’ve been frustrated, I’m sure you still remember the time I broke the laptop because I had trouble with that Nietzsche essay back in college,” of course Nora remembered, it had been her laptop, “It’s really freaking me out, help me, give me a plot, a name, anything to help me get started.”

Charlotte waited but Nora didn’t answer her, she assumed that she was thinking until she heard Nora’s faint snores coming down the line. Charlotte rolled her eyes and she tried to call for her friend, “Nora! Nora!” but it was no use. Nora Smith could sleep through nuclear war.

Charlotte hung up and considered calling either Katie or Emma but if Nora fell asleep they probably would too, she put the phone back on the receiver, looked back briefly to her laptop before sighing, for the hundredth time that night, and moving over to her stocked book case. Maybe reading would help, Charlotte thought. She picked up The Shining by Stephen King, sat down on her couch and started to read. She didn’t remember falling asleep.

“Charlotte wake up!” Nora screamed as she let herself into Charlotte’s apartment. Charlotte sat up on the couch the television remote in her hand.

“I’m not afraid to use this!” she screamed as she looked around her apartment frantically, she didn’t lower her weapon until she spotted Nora who was carrying a tray with two coffee’s and a brown paper bag.

Nora shook her head as she handed Charlotte her cappuccino, with two sugars, and the brown bag which held, Charlotte’s favourite, a double chocolate chip muffin. “Thanks,” she said as she took a bite and then a sip of her coffee.

Nora went around her apartment turning off all of the lights Charlotte couldn’t remember turning on. “I told you to stop reading The Shining at night, it always scares the crap out of you and you ride up your electricity bill because you have to turn on all of the lights,” she said sounding grouchy, “Did you destroy your laptop last night?”

“No, I decided to let it live despite all of the hardship it has caused me,” Charlotte said as she devoured the muffin.

“Come up with anything to write yet?” Nora called from Charlotte’s bedroom. Charlotte moaned and sunk back into her couch, Nora emerged from her bedroom minutes later carrying a garment bag. “I have an interview for a promotion later and I want to borrow your clothes.” She explained before Charlotte had a chance to ask.

“I thought you liked your job.” Charlotte said.

“I do, but if I get this I’m pretty much going to be doing the same thing, except I’ll have an assistant and I’ll get an iPhone.” Nora smiled, so did Charlotte, “You could write about me getting a job and it might come true,” Nora said hopefully, Charlotte could see she wanted the promotion but knowing Nora she only wanted it for the iPhone.

“Yeah,” Charlotte laughed, “And next I’ll write about a writer with writers block!” It was meant to be a joke but as soon as Charlotte said it she knew it was the best idea she had for a short story. She swallowed what was left of her coffee, burning her mouth in the process, and darted to her laptop which was hotter then her coffee had been since she left it on all night. She began to type immediately, Nora said, “Your welcome Char,” before leaving the apartment. Charlotte didn’t notice, she was too caught up in her new story which was practically writing itself.