- You have ten versions of the same document. You try to find the original. Each one is slightly shorter than the last. You have one hundred versions of the same document. One only has a single word. That word is “run.”
- You find a thousand words you didn’t write. You wrote them while you were asleep- they’re better then the words you write awake. You start taking sleeping pills.
- You find a scene you don’t remember writing, with characters whose names you don’t remember. They are the shadows of ideas you never wrote. They don’t speak, they only stare through the pages and into your soul.
- “Shouldn’t you be writing?” Asks your roommate. You ignore her. “Shouldn’t you be writing?” Asks your characters. “Shouldn’t you be writing?” Asks your cat. Death knocks on the door to your room. “Shouldn’t you be wri-
- You kill off a character. It isn’t enough. You kill off another. Another. Everyone is dead. The pages are red with blood. It is not enough. He is still not happy.
- Your pen name makes her own website. She’s more famous than you are, and you just came up with her two weeks ago. She writes her own novels. They’re published by the end of the year. You read them. They’re your novels, printed backwards.
- The ink spills out of your manuscript and out of your computer screen. “Computer screens don’t have ink,” you say. You’re right, computer screens don’t have ink. The ink doesn’t care. It keeps flowing.