Picture courtesy of Doug MacIlroy
This picture evokes a certain hunger, an emptiness that plagues creative types. I’m going to go with that as my theme this week.
Word count: 100
The pages mocked him with their blankness. Head in hand, he groaned deeply. With rewrites, he could move words around. It’s hard to work with nothing. His soul was as empty as the pages.
Hands poised over the keyboard, he plunged in. “The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.” Typing on, “and bit him on the arse. Poor dog ran to the water’s edge to soothe his painful rear only to be pulled under by a gruesome phantom fish.”
Pure crap. But any words were better than none, or so he’d heard. All could be remedied with revisions.
© Erin Leary
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