Writer's Block
by: T.D. Edwards
Jenson, or Jayden—no his name was actually Jarell, sat on the couch in his living room, watching television. He was unsure of what program he was watching. It was something old from the 1950’s, like “I Love Lucy” or something.
Actually, no it wasn’t. It was some modern sitcom. Quite funny. Jarell watched as the main character got herself caught telling a rather amusing lie. Jarell sat back on the couch and put his feet up on the table in front of him, eager to see what would happen next when suddenly, he realized that his amusement was out of place. This wasn’t a comedy. It was a drama. A historical drama, which was exactly what Jarell…(no hold on a second, his name was Johnson—a nice, proper, dignified name that matched his sophisticated personality)…Exactly what Johnson liked.
Johnson took his feet off the table, realizing that he was now dressed in khakis and a polo-shirt, having just come from his favorite hobby of playing golf. He had made it home just in time to catch this movie about President Lincoln so that he could take some notes. He looked down at the pen and notepad in his hands and saw that he was taking notes for a class presentation he’d be doing next week—no next month. As a straight-A student, he always prepared early.
No, no, no. That was all wrong. Johnson wasn’t a student. He was the teacher. High school teacher. No, college professor. No, it was high school. He was a high school history teacher. Watching historical dramas was just another hobby of his. He didn’t need to take notes. He already knew everything there was to know about President Lincoln.
“Honey, could you bring me a cup of coffee?” he called out to his wife.
It was morning.
Wait, why wasn’t he at school?
Obviously, it had to be a Saturday morning then. Or maybe Sunday? No—Saturday, because if it was Sunday, he’d be sitting in church right now.
Or maybe it should be Sunday and he should be sitting in a pew, listening to some sort of loud, emotional, holy-ghost inspiring sermon while the old ladies behind him gossiped about their neighbors, as if no one could hear them or knew what they were up to as they randomly shouted out “Yes!” and “Praise the Lord!” to make it seem like they were really paying attention.
That certainly could be entertaining…
Maybe later. After all, Saturday had to pass before Sunday--unless this was some alternate universe where the days of the week went backwards…
No. That was silly.
So Saturday morning it remained, much to Johnson’s pleasure. If it was Saturday morning though, Johnson wondered why he was already dressed in his khakis and polo shirt? That wasn’t right. He looked down to find that he was in his pajamas now, with his robe tied around him, slippers on his feet, and a newspaper in his lap. That was better. Much more comfortable.
But something was wrong. He realized his wife never came out of the kitchen with his coffee. Maybe she was busy with the kids.
Did they have kids? Johnson wasn’t sure. Were they an old couple or a young couple? Married for decades or was this still in the honeymoon phase?
Johnson vaguely began to remember that he was middle-aged. Yet, he suddenly stopped caring. His age and how long he’d been married didn’t matter. He just wanted his coffee. Where was his wife?
It then occurred to him that he was a perfectly capable man, whose name was Ronald Johnson, by the way. Johnson wasn’t his first name. That sounded ridiculous. Johnson wasn’t a good first name. It was not like…Jackson, for instance. That made for a cool first name. He loved Michael Jackson. Maybe he should be called Jackson…?
No. That name was too cool. He wasn’t meant to be cool. He was a history teacher.
Anyway, who was he to be bossing his wife around, telling her to get his cup of coffee? He could get up and get his own darn coffee. She wasn’t his maid.
Ronald got up to get his own coffee and to see if his wife needed help with anything. However, he realized that he didn’t have a wife.
How had he made such a mistake? Ronald flopped back down on the couch, having a hunch as to why this had happened. Besides, he didn’t want coffee anymore. It was too hot in the house…apartment…house.
Sitting on the couch, Ronald entered a moment of self-reflection. It had clearly been decided that a married, middle-aged, newspaper-reading, history-movie-watching, coffee-drinking-on-a-Saturday-morning, church-going, high school teacher would not be very entertaining for anyone. It was just all wrong.
His name was Jackson and he was cool. He lived with his girlfriend. Her name was Nadia, and she was cool too. And pretty. And they both had jobs working as…
Jackson’s mind drew a blank. He couldn’t remember where they worked. He didn’t know where they worked. He realized that this was because they didn’t work. Working and adult responsibility suddenly seemed unappealing. It was no fun. It was much more interesting being young, but not too young. Teenaged. Yes. That was perfect. Jackson was glad to be a 16 year-old carefree junior in high school.
He was also glad that his name was back to Jarell. That was the name that fit him best. He liked it.
It was not Saturday morning because a 16-year-old boy named Jarell would have still been sleeping if it were still in the A.M. hours. It was actually 2 P.M.
Jarell started watching TV again, but not history. He hated history. It was his worse subject. Besides, why would he watch something educational on a Saturday? He got enough school Monday through Friday, thank you very much. Saturday was a day to sit back and watch the sports channel. Jarell loved sports of all kinds. Happily, he sat back and watched something on the sports channel. He had gotten dressed not long ago in an oversized t-shirt and jeans.
That’s more like it, Jarell thought to himself as he leaned forward to grab the can of Sprite on the table in front of him.
Oh, and Nadia wasn’t his girlfriend. She was his mom, for crying out loud! Jarell shuddered. What kind of sickening mistake was that?
By the way, his mom’s name was Nancy—something much more motherly. Nancy, or Mom, as he called her, was upstairs cleaning.
No, she wasn’t upstairs. She was at work. She worked as a…doctor? Or was it a lawyer? Or was she a secretary? Jarell had forgotten. He just knew his mom did the same type of work as his dad, who also wasn’t home. Jarell had the whole house to himself this lovely Saturday afternoon.
Or so he thought. He jumped, momentarily startled by the sudden presence of someone on the couch next to him. He breathed a sigh of a relief once he recognized it was just Nadia, his sister.
“Why are you always watching this garbage?” Nadia said, reaching for the remote-control on the other side of Jarell. “I want to watch my show. Gimme the remote. You’ve been here all day. It’s my turn.”
Jarell moved the remote out of her reach, annoyed. It clearly wasn’t his fault that he had been here all day…
“No,” Jarell said. “Why don’t you go find something to do? Get away from me.”
Nadia began trying to wrestle the remote away from him. How annoying little sisters were! Jarell inwardly held on to the hope that he really did not have a little sister. A big brother would be better…
As Nadia continued to fight with him, Jarell had already accepted that everything he wanted did not always have a shot at being true.
But maybe there was hope yet…
Jarell noticed that Nadia was aging right before his eyes. She was now older than him. Perhaps somewhere in her late teens or early-twenties. In fact, she wasn’t even there anymore. She was away at school. Nadia was a junior in college and she lived on-campus, three hours away from home. She wouldn’t be home until another two weeks for Christmas break.
No, make that summer vacation. It was warm outside and there were no signs that Christmas was near.
Jarell nodded in satisfaction, thinking about how that had actually worked out pretty good. He didn’t mind having an older college-aged sister. Maybe he could visit her on campus sometime and meet her college girlfriends. Jarell was especially glad though, that with Nadia no longer sitting next to him, Nate was now beside him instead. Nate was his best friend, who also loved sports and therefore, was not trying to change the channel.
“Man, did you catch the game last night?” Nate said excitedly, except his name was not Nate, it was Derek (because Jarell knew too many people whose names started with the letter “N”).
Jarell thought about it, delighted as memories from the game last night started to return to him.
Woah…wait a second…
This was not about a game they had seen last night; it was about the game they had played last night. Jarell and Derek were both on the basketball team at school. They were the star players. They had played a game against their biggest rivals and college recruiters had been there to watch.
College was just a year away, after all. It was time to get serious about that kind of thing. Childhood was practically over. Jarell was 17 years old, not 16. There was a big difference. And Derek—he would be 18 years old in a few months.
Jarell and Derek began discussing game-playing techniques for their next match, when suddenly, the conversation abruptly ended because neither of them were on the basketball team. They played football, despite not knowing much about football.
Jarell couldn’t help but feel beyond annoyed. No matter what was being written, he was sure, positively certain, that he liked basketball better than football. If that suddenly changed, then it was an outright lie!
Jarell, whose name was now Jordan (he gave a smug smile at this name-change because he knew it was a sign he was standing his ground and letting it be known that he preferred basketball), glared at the author. He stared at her through the black letters scribbled on the page. She held the ink-pen with the chewed-up top as she reread her previously written words, and changed her mind again and again. Jordan sat helplessly, knowing he was just words on a page, as he wondered what was going to be written next. He hoped with all his inky heart that lines would not be drawn through him, scratching him out of existence—as seemed to be the case with Derek, who was no longer there.
Suddenly, Jordan thought back to all the endless months that he had sat motionless without a single thought in his head and absolutely nothing to do, because the author had suffered a severe case of writer’s block. So maybe he shouldn’t complain. Though she was being absurd with the constant changes she kept making, at least it gave him something to do and think about. Plus, he had to look on the bright side—his name was Jordan now and he liked basketball. Perhaps if he learned to stand his ground more often, he could manage to help shape the author’s thoughts! Oh the possibilities…
Jordan watched the pen descend upon the paper again, knowing that this brainstorming session was nowhere near over. What changes were to come next? He’d just have to wait and see. Besides…it couldn’t be too bad, right? As long as he didn’t get changed into a girl or something drastic like that…
He sighed as he watched his mother, who was supposed to be upstairs, at work, out of town, or perhaps in outer space, suddenly burst through the front door, with a wide grin on her face. “We’re going on vacation! Start packing!” she announced.
Jordan sighed again as Derek returned to the couch and became his sister-- a different one than before though. Apparently he had two sisters now, one older and one younger. This was the younger one. So while one sister was away at college, this one was at home to torment him.
His mom (who was now his dad) disappeared, presumably returning upstairs. He wondered whether this vacation plotline would last. A vacation meant they had to leave the house, which was something Jordan was weary of doing. He hadn’t forgotten the last time he went out of his house--the whole world suddenly disappeared and absolutely nothing happened apart from standing on a sheet of empty white paper full of nothingness for months. How far would they make it on this vacation before that so-called aspiring writer changed her mind again?
He looked up again, recognizing the excited and fevered look in his author’s eyes. That could only mean one thing—something horribly bizarre was in the works.
The pen descended once again and he felt his legs moving him to the door. He was going to step outside for some fresh air. He looked back at his sister, who had been scratched out and turned into his unnamed brother. His brother followed him outside, their pet dog—no cat—no dog following behind them…
The dog suddenly sprung into the air and turned into a human. A vampire. A werewolf. No, a witch. Then it disappeared all together. The porch vanished from under Jordan’s feet. Now he was back in the living room, alone. His brother had vanished with the witch and the porch.
Jordan sat there and nothing happened.
“MAKE UP YOUR MIND!” Jordan yelled at the author.
In exasperation, he looked up from the page and watched his creator put down her pen and step away from her notebook. He knew what that meant.
“Not writer’s block, again,” he mumbled as his surroundings grew still and blank.
Actually, no it wasn’t. It was some modern sitcom. Quite funny. Jarell watched as the main character got herself caught telling a rather amusing lie. Jarell sat back on the couch and put his feet up on the table in front of him, eager to see what would happen next when suddenly, he realized that his amusement was out of place. This wasn’t a comedy. It was a drama. A historical drama, which was exactly what Jarell…(no hold on a second, his name was Johnson—a nice, proper, dignified name that matched his sophisticated personality)…Exactly what Johnson liked.
Johnson took his feet off the table, realizing that he was now dressed in khakis and a polo-shirt, having just come from his favorite hobby of playing golf. He had made it home just in time to catch this movie about President Lincoln so that he could take some notes. He looked down at the pen and notepad in his hands and saw that he was taking notes for a class presentation he’d be doing next week—no next month. As a straight-A student, he always prepared early.
No, no, no. That was all wrong. Johnson wasn’t a student. He was the teacher. High school teacher. No, college professor. No, it was high school. He was a high school history teacher. Watching historical dramas was just another hobby of his. He didn’t need to take notes. He already knew everything there was to know about President Lincoln.
“Honey, could you bring me a cup of coffee?” he called out to his wife.
It was morning.
Wait, why wasn’t he at school?
Obviously, it had to be a Saturday morning then. Or maybe Sunday? No—Saturday, because if it was Sunday, he’d be sitting in church right now.
Or maybe it should be Sunday and he should be sitting in a pew, listening to some sort of loud, emotional, holy-ghost inspiring sermon while the old ladies behind him gossiped about their neighbors, as if no one could hear them or knew what they were up to as they randomly shouted out “Yes!” and “Praise the Lord!” to make it seem like they were really paying attention.
That certainly could be entertaining…
Maybe later. After all, Saturday had to pass before Sunday--unless this was some alternate universe where the days of the week went backwards…
No. That was silly.
So Saturday morning it remained, much to Johnson’s pleasure. If it was Saturday morning though, Johnson wondered why he was already dressed in his khakis and polo shirt? That wasn’t right. He looked down to find that he was in his pajamas now, with his robe tied around him, slippers on his feet, and a newspaper in his lap. That was better. Much more comfortable.
But something was wrong. He realized his wife never came out of the kitchen with his coffee. Maybe she was busy with the kids.
Did they have kids? Johnson wasn’t sure. Were they an old couple or a young couple? Married for decades or was this still in the honeymoon phase?
Johnson vaguely began to remember that he was middle-aged. Yet, he suddenly stopped caring. His age and how long he’d been married didn’t matter. He just wanted his coffee. Where was his wife?
It then occurred to him that he was a perfectly capable man, whose name was Ronald Johnson, by the way. Johnson wasn’t his first name. That sounded ridiculous. Johnson wasn’t a good first name. It was not like…Jackson, for instance. That made for a cool first name. He loved Michael Jackson. Maybe he should be called Jackson…?
No. That name was too cool. He wasn’t meant to be cool. He was a history teacher.
Anyway, who was he to be bossing his wife around, telling her to get his cup of coffee? He could get up and get his own darn coffee. She wasn’t his maid.
Ronald got up to get his own coffee and to see if his wife needed help with anything. However, he realized that he didn’t have a wife.
How had he made such a mistake? Ronald flopped back down on the couch, having a hunch as to why this had happened. Besides, he didn’t want coffee anymore. It was too hot in the house…apartment…house.
Sitting on the couch, Ronald entered a moment of self-reflection. It had clearly been decided that a married, middle-aged, newspaper-reading, history-movie-watching, coffee-drinking-on-a-Saturday-morning, church-going, high school teacher would not be very entertaining for anyone. It was just all wrong.
His name was Jackson and he was cool. He lived with his girlfriend. Her name was Nadia, and she was cool too. And pretty. And they both had jobs working as…
Jackson’s mind drew a blank. He couldn’t remember where they worked. He didn’t know where they worked. He realized that this was because they didn’t work. Working and adult responsibility suddenly seemed unappealing. It was no fun. It was much more interesting being young, but not too young. Teenaged. Yes. That was perfect. Jackson was glad to be a 16 year-old carefree junior in high school.
He was also glad that his name was back to Jarell. That was the name that fit him best. He liked it.
It was not Saturday morning because a 16-year-old boy named Jarell would have still been sleeping if it were still in the A.M. hours. It was actually 2 P.M.
Jarell started watching TV again, but not history. He hated history. It was his worse subject. Besides, why would he watch something educational on a Saturday? He got enough school Monday through Friday, thank you very much. Saturday was a day to sit back and watch the sports channel. Jarell loved sports of all kinds. Happily, he sat back and watched something on the sports channel. He had gotten dressed not long ago in an oversized t-shirt and jeans.
That’s more like it, Jarell thought to himself as he leaned forward to grab the can of Sprite on the table in front of him.
Oh, and Nadia wasn’t his girlfriend. She was his mom, for crying out loud! Jarell shuddered. What kind of sickening mistake was that?
By the way, his mom’s name was Nancy—something much more motherly. Nancy, or Mom, as he called her, was upstairs cleaning.
No, she wasn’t upstairs. She was at work. She worked as a…doctor? Or was it a lawyer? Or was she a secretary? Jarell had forgotten. He just knew his mom did the same type of work as his dad, who also wasn’t home. Jarell had the whole house to himself this lovely Saturday afternoon.
Or so he thought. He jumped, momentarily startled by the sudden presence of someone on the couch next to him. He breathed a sigh of a relief once he recognized it was just Nadia, his sister.
“Why are you always watching this garbage?” Nadia said, reaching for the remote-control on the other side of Jarell. “I want to watch my show. Gimme the remote. You’ve been here all day. It’s my turn.”
Jarell moved the remote out of her reach, annoyed. It clearly wasn’t his fault that he had been here all day…
“No,” Jarell said. “Why don’t you go find something to do? Get away from me.”
Nadia began trying to wrestle the remote away from him. How annoying little sisters were! Jarell inwardly held on to the hope that he really did not have a little sister. A big brother would be better…
As Nadia continued to fight with him, Jarell had already accepted that everything he wanted did not always have a shot at being true.
But maybe there was hope yet…
Jarell noticed that Nadia was aging right before his eyes. She was now older than him. Perhaps somewhere in her late teens or early-twenties. In fact, she wasn’t even there anymore. She was away at school. Nadia was a junior in college and she lived on-campus, three hours away from home. She wouldn’t be home until another two weeks for Christmas break.
No, make that summer vacation. It was warm outside and there were no signs that Christmas was near.
Jarell nodded in satisfaction, thinking about how that had actually worked out pretty good. He didn’t mind having an older college-aged sister. Maybe he could visit her on campus sometime and meet her college girlfriends. Jarell was especially glad though, that with Nadia no longer sitting next to him, Nate was now beside him instead. Nate was his best friend, who also loved sports and therefore, was not trying to change the channel.
“Man, did you catch the game last night?” Nate said excitedly, except his name was not Nate, it was Derek (because Jarell knew too many people whose names started with the letter “N”).
Jarell thought about it, delighted as memories from the game last night started to return to him.
Woah…wait a second…
This was not about a game they had seen last night; it was about the game they had played last night. Jarell and Derek were both on the basketball team at school. They were the star players. They had played a game against their biggest rivals and college recruiters had been there to watch.
College was just a year away, after all. It was time to get serious about that kind of thing. Childhood was practically over. Jarell was 17 years old, not 16. There was a big difference. And Derek—he would be 18 years old in a few months.
Jarell and Derek began discussing game-playing techniques for their next match, when suddenly, the conversation abruptly ended because neither of them were on the basketball team. They played football, despite not knowing much about football.
Jarell couldn’t help but feel beyond annoyed. No matter what was being written, he was sure, positively certain, that he liked basketball better than football. If that suddenly changed, then it was an outright lie!
Jarell, whose name was now Jordan (he gave a smug smile at this name-change because he knew it was a sign he was standing his ground and letting it be known that he preferred basketball), glared at the author. He stared at her through the black letters scribbled on the page. She held the ink-pen with the chewed-up top as she reread her previously written words, and changed her mind again and again. Jordan sat helplessly, knowing he was just words on a page, as he wondered what was going to be written next. He hoped with all his inky heart that lines would not be drawn through him, scratching him out of existence—as seemed to be the case with Derek, who was no longer there.
Suddenly, Jordan thought back to all the endless months that he had sat motionless without a single thought in his head and absolutely nothing to do, because the author had suffered a severe case of writer’s block. So maybe he shouldn’t complain. Though she was being absurd with the constant changes she kept making, at least it gave him something to do and think about. Plus, he had to look on the bright side—his name was Jordan now and he liked basketball. Perhaps if he learned to stand his ground more often, he could manage to help shape the author’s thoughts! Oh the possibilities…
Jordan watched the pen descend upon the paper again, knowing that this brainstorming session was nowhere near over. What changes were to come next? He’d just have to wait and see. Besides…it couldn’t be too bad, right? As long as he didn’t get changed into a girl or something drastic like that…
He sighed as he watched his mother, who was supposed to be upstairs, at work, out of town, or perhaps in outer space, suddenly burst through the front door, with a wide grin on her face. “We’re going on vacation! Start packing!” she announced.
Jordan sighed again as Derek returned to the couch and became his sister-- a different one than before though. Apparently he had two sisters now, one older and one younger. This was the younger one. So while one sister was away at college, this one was at home to torment him.
His mom (who was now his dad) disappeared, presumably returning upstairs. He wondered whether this vacation plotline would last. A vacation meant they had to leave the house, which was something Jordan was weary of doing. He hadn’t forgotten the last time he went out of his house--the whole world suddenly disappeared and absolutely nothing happened apart from standing on a sheet of empty white paper full of nothingness for months. How far would they make it on this vacation before that so-called aspiring writer changed her mind again?
He looked up again, recognizing the excited and fevered look in his author’s eyes. That could only mean one thing—something horribly bizarre was in the works.
The pen descended once again and he felt his legs moving him to the door. He was going to step outside for some fresh air. He looked back at his sister, who had been scratched out and turned into his unnamed brother. His brother followed him outside, their pet dog—no cat—no dog following behind them…
The dog suddenly sprung into the air and turned into a human. A vampire. A werewolf. No, a witch. Then it disappeared all together. The porch vanished from under Jordan’s feet. Now he was back in the living room, alone. His brother had vanished with the witch and the porch.
Jordan sat there and nothing happened.
“MAKE UP YOUR MIND!” Jordan yelled at the author.
In exasperation, he looked up from the page and watched his creator put down her pen and step away from her notebook. He knew what that meant.
“Not writer’s block, again,” he mumbled as his surroundings grew still and blank.
Copyright © T.D. Edwards 2012