Jonsing!

Wow what a day! Yesterday I was itching to do something creative! I tell you, writing daily gives you an itch you just GOTTA scratch!

Speaking of not writing (or drawing) yesterday, I don't want you guys to feel like you're getting 1 less this week, so Saturday I'll be doing a double update both here AND the art blog!

So onto today's story!

Written Word

Peter sighed as he stamped the "Postage Paid" onto Mrs. Kraemer's envelopes. It was the same thing every Friday. Mrs. Kraemer came in, talked for about an hour, then mailed 3 letters to her children, who never wrote back.

"Thank you deary!" said Mrs. Kraemer as she left, looking all too sad at hearing that there was no mail for her.

Peter had been working at the Quick Mail post office for 10 years now. He was the highest seniority employee except for burt the night guy. Peter knew everything about his job. He knew the ins and outs of the mail system and always exploited whatever he could to help those who sent letter through him. He may not like his job, but he liked to feel like he was making a difference.

Peter pulled out his PDA and started to surf the internet. The Quick Mail was never busy on Friday. Actually, it was never busy. Peter did his usual routine, check blogs, facebook, e-mail, and finally search for work.

He didn't know thing one about looking for work. He just checked random job sites and hoped for the best. More often than not he'd find things he didn't want to do, like wait staff at a bar or customer service at a retail centre. He just skipped those. One time he found a job at a factory for making glass. He didn't own steel toed boots so he didn't apply for the job.

Sighing in defeat, once again Peter found nothing he could do. He turned off his PDA and went back to staring blankly at the door, hoping someone would walk in and offer him a job elsewhere. Anywhere else would be fine. Maybe someplace that put on live plays?

Peter liked plays, he always wanted to write and direct a play himself, but he could never get inspired to write. He would just stare blankly at the empty text document on his PDA and wait.

And wait.

And wait...

The bell to the front door rang and in walked an a middle aged man. "Hey there sport!" he called.

"Hey." was Peter's unenthusiastic reply.

"Hows business?"

"Same as always."

"And your book?"

"Same as always."

Peter had the same conversation with this man every week, usually on Mondays, I guess he couldn't wait to send out his mail this week. "Can I help you?"

"Nah, just stopped by to see what you're doing! Why haven't you started your book yet?"

Peter just shrugged. "Dunno. Can't think of anything to write."

"How about this, write about an old man who saves a small town from a fire! I think that'd be a good idea!"

"Yeah maybe." Peter looked out the window.

"Two friends take a trip to Europe, one gets kidnappped and the other has to save him!"

"Yeah." Peter was growing annoyed.

"What about-"

"Yeah, I get it. It's just. You don't come up with an idea, you have to come up with a story and know how to write it. I'm just not that good yet."

The old man tapped his bearded chin and thought about this for a while before he spoke again. "You know what I heard those professionals do when they're stuck? They just write"

Peter stared, unimpressed at the old man. Was that the best advice he could muster?

"Anyways, I guess you're not in the mood to talk so I'll let you be." The old man turned and left the Quick Mail.

"What kind of advice is that! Just write!" Peter scoffed. "If it was that simple I wouldn't be here." Peter leaned on the counter for a moment before pulling out his PDA again and opening up a blank text document.

Peter stared at the blank document for a moment. The cursor blinked indicating it's readiness to begin. Just staring Peter's mind raced to think of an idea but nothing was coming. It was too much pressure. He needed this to be brilliant! He needed it to be perfect! He was about to close his the text document when the old man's voice broke through. "Just WRITE!"

Peter stopped, took a deep breath, and started to type.