Hello. I'm just revisiting my first story. My English teacher read it here, and said that it would make a good essay, but needed to be longer. So here it is! Please R&R.

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Writer's block

Today started off as any other day.

I slept in to eight o'clock and rushed to get ready for school. It's always the same. I set my alarm for seven am, but fall asleep and end up rushing. As I rushed out to catch the school bus, I could feel that something was amiss. Everything sounded duller than normal.

I always walk around school in a daze, as my friends will attest. My heads always swimming with ideas and plans. I'm always daydreaming about ideas can write down and stories I can pen, but rarely do. Today was different.

I was itching to write.

I've never had such an urge to write, and normally, with my nonsense-filled head that wouldn't be a problem as I could write whatever popped into my brain. But, as I said, today was different.

My mind was as blank as a sheet of paper, fresh from the press; it was a complete void.

First period was a nightmare. I sat in my geography class berating my mind for being so empty. Normally, I'd sit and switch off from my teacher's babbling. I'll sit and content myself, as whole universes of adventure are created and destroyed by my mind in the space if fifty-three minutes. I can sit and write three maybe four A4 pages of (incoherent) nonsense or drabbles.

No such luck today. I couldn't even string a sentence together.

Second period was okay; it was after all, English - the one subject made for the writing enthusiast. Surely my writers block would shift now? I sat for an entire double period (the best part of two hours might I add), with a sheet of foolscap on the desk. My fingers were itching to write, and drummed on the wood of the table. But what to write, I couldn't think. Finally, I gave up in disgust, doodling my name and the word 'bored' in a fancy font instead. So much for wanting to be a journalist.

Fourth period was art, one of my best subjects. My writer's block seemed to have taken on a mind of it's own, as it attacked my straw and wire lampshade. Oops! Nothing turned out right. My tissue paper models turned out hideously deformed, my watercolour portraits turned into sheets of mushy paper. The teacher was in despair at my inability to do the least thing right.

My friends all noticed my odd behaviour as by the lunch-hour, my moaning increased tenfold, much to everyone's chagrin. I can be a bit of a moaner, even on my good days, but today I was so unbelievably moany, even the most patient of listeners were telling me to shut up. I sat for most of that lunch silent, cursing the void that was my brain. Still, you've got to laugh.

Fifth period - Music. I began to feel much better during this period. As I sat and played 'Heaven is a Place on Earth'; I could feel the writer's block being defeated by crotchets and minims. As musical notes flowed from my fingertips and into the keyboard, I could feel the first sparks of inspiration. My mind began feeding on these crumbs, and grander imaginings emerged. Ideas began running through my mind, and whole universes were once again opened up to me.

Last period was maths. I'm in the intermediate two class, so obviously maths isn't my kettle of fish. I normally sit blank in this subject, so as you can imagine, my writer's block loved it here. Taking a sheet of paper from my oversized rucksack, I put a heading at the top, and a date in the margin. That's as far as I got. The partially oiled machine of my mind once again whirred to a halt. Writer's block was once again thriving, as it deprived me of my stories and my sanity for the second time.

By home time, I was once again feeling deflated and dejected. My moans once again increased, and I found myself trudging wearily home - alone.

I dragged myself through the front door of my house. Mumbled a meagre hello to my mum and hauled my bag up the stairs.

Flinging myself onto my bed, I once again took out a sheet of foolscap paper. I scribbled a short list of the day's events. Hardly inspiring.

First period: I hadn't written a single word let alone anything constructive.

Second period: I'd given up on writing. So much for Scorpios being determined to triumph.

Third Period: Still away in a 'big cream puff'.

Fourth period: I'd retreated further still into my huff after the lampshade catastrophe.

Fifth Period: My brain stared ticking again. I imagined sitting down and playing my keyboard. I immediately knew what I had to do. I would defeat this writer's block.

The writer's block was already being defeated as I worked out needed doing. I hauled on my big beige hiking boots, marched down the stairs and out the door. I had to deal one last blow to completely turn the tables.

Trudging down Carrochan Road, it came to me. I knew exactly what to write 's block.

As I sit here now, in the little local library on Carrochan Road, writing this short little story, I know that it's not the best work I've done. I do however feel happy knowing that next time writer's block strikes, I'll know how to defeat it.