He’s there, lying on the sofa, just waiting for a story to tumble out of that brain of his. It’s been so long since he’s tried to be creative like this, but surely he’s just a bit rusty, he can’t have siezed up completely . . . can he?
“Why did I leave it so long?” He thinks to himself, “new girlfriend, new course at uni, so why’d it take so long to come back to writing?”
The reasons didn’t matter, what did was intentions. That was half the battle. However long he’d been away, now he was back, and back he would stay. He’d made that first hurdle to overcome the shiny new DVD’s on his shelf, the wiimote on the coffee table, but more importantly, just the general lack of motivation.
What was that? Ok, so the laptop comes connected to the internet, it had to be for him to be here in the first place, slight distraction but it’s gone now. He’s back and looking at the screen, fingers poised at the keyboard . . .
. . . if only he could think of something to write about.