She sighed and rubbed her exhausted eyes after she crossed out another disappointing dialogue from her notebook. The clock had announced that it was past midnight and she had nothing to show for it. A hundred story ideas in her head at any moment and a hundred failures at trying to breathe life into them. The magic in her mind would not come out from her pen. The characters remained only paper and ink, not flesh and blood.

“We’ll what do you expect when you are barely flesh and blood when you tinker with them?” A voice from atop her desk answered her thoughts. “You never start until your pajamas are on and your mind is already half asleep.” The writer looked up at her shelf, a clutter of paper clips, dust, and action figures, to see her golden-haired She-Ra sitting on the edge, dangling her tiny plastic feet, and giving her owner an expectant expression. “If you aren’t fully conscious it comes out more like hallucinatory jibberish,” she added.