Generally, writers always have people telling them what to write about.  It’s frustrating and kind of annoying.


When you’re stuck and you ask for suggestions the things that come out of the woodwork are amazing.

He-Man.  She-Ra.  Using a sticky mouse pad.  Azumangadaioh.  Noodles.  The difficulties of running an empire trapped in the armor of an undying necromancer.  Mayonnaise.  Cereal.  Cat fur.  Neo-nazism in post-modern America.  Pagan holidays.  What the cat did yesterday.  What my brother did last week.  Band-aids.  How the finger I smashed looks.  Disney’s purchase of Lucas Arts.  The way the Sci-fi channel spells it’s name “Sy Fy.”

And the list goes on.  It’s incredible the random ideas people dredge up when asked.  I’d even go so far as to say mind boggling.  I guess I did ask though.

The current issue, of course, aside from picking what to write about, is thinking of 200 words to say about it.  I’m too young to remember He-Man or She-Ra.  I don’t use a mouse pad.  I never saw Azumangadaioh.  I’m pretending the whole Disney/Lucas Arts thing didn’t happen.  (It’s called denial.  Don’t ask why.)  And while I could write about noodles, cereal, cat fur, band-aids, mayonnaise, or my finger, I’m not sure I could stretch those out into 200 words or that it would be even remotely enjoyable or interesting when I was done.

And as for the people who go, “Sure you could!”  Here’s a pen and some paper.  Go for it.


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