Perhaps “out of gas” would be the more appropriate expression. Few are unacquainted with the sight of a blank computer screen in the dead of night, motivation and ideas having stagnated long before. A “steam” reference in the face, literally, of modern-day technology seems anachronistic, though indeed previous generations have not been without a fair share of writer’s block.

It often starts out unassumingly, writer’s block. Upon making oneself comfortable in a presumably well-cushioned chair, perhaps with the company of modest food and drink, the stage is set for a masterpiece to unfold onscreen. Alas, nothing unfolds. The absence of satisfying keyboard chatter is enough to make one squirm under the silent unproductiveness.

And so it begins.

First dawns the realization that a long night lies ahead. With that epiphany comes a deluge of trivial diversions that fail to achieve any goal. All efforts from this point should be aimed toward that churning noise of the printing final paper, yet, lacking in a source of inspiration, it is during the periods of hardest work when the mind is most easily distracted.

An internet connection can be quite the seductress. Online conversation is particularly attention-grabbing and, just as considerably, time-consuming. Movies, stories, games abound on the web. A friend’s comforting voice is only an arm’s reach over to a phone, and who could forget the proverbial, “I’m just going to take a short nap”? Surely, too, to run dry in unwholesome cuisine would be remiss. These incessant “opportunities” and wonderfully apt at making that final goal seem much farther than it might have been.

Temptations also prey on momentum. Giving in to distractions will never provide the drive to begin successfully writing, and successful progress seems to warrant distracting rewards. Often, the longer that headway is made, the more appealing a “break” appears. Of course, there is always that rare spontaneous gush of inspiration, which can be enough to propel letters, words, sentences across the page to the word limit. What if no such miracle occurs? Back to baby steps.

Imagine the scenario of a man headed in his car to the top of a sloping hill, on which rests a gas station—Exxon perhaps, or Shell. Maybe he is wanting of a restroom. In any case, he is so focused on reaching this place and continuing on his way that he fails to notice his depleted fuel tank until he is conveniently stuck at the bottom of the hill with an empty tank. Now he has two rather urgent problems.

Both issues need to be resolved, and the sooner the better. But, lacking in a source of motivation, the car is going to lounge where it is unless the man shifts into neutral, steps outside, and begins to push.

And so it begins.

Fortunately for this hero, the hill is not steep, and certainly would have been easily traversable had he the fuel. However, the fuel he has not, and the man must slowly, steadily push his car up the hill. As he perspires from the effort, for perhaps it is a summer afternoon the Southwest, he often pauses from his labor, taking in the red canyon view, or reaching for his cell phone to relate to a friend his distress (funnily, the friend is in a similar situation).

The longer he strains, the more he wants to take a break. Each time he stops pushing, however, the car slides back a little, and each time the man finds it just as hard to get going again. In one scenario, we might have the man discover a canister of gasoline lying along the roadside, and suddenly the rest of the journey is literally a cruise. Under different conditions, however, this hero must remain attached to his car’s rear bumper, pushing one step at a time.

Occasionally the man might look back and wonder, even proudly, at the progress he has made during his trial. And soon, whether through the unexpected discovery of fuel or through sheer exertion, the gap between his car and a gas nozzle is fast shrinking, and now the two are practically together, and at long last the paper is finished, the printer is churning, and no longer must a blank screen serve as an intimidating reminder of one’s own unproductiveness. After several hours of struggle, the hero has finally found his restroom, though he is exhausted; he has filled up his car with gasoline and is ready to continue forward; and at the very least, he now has this latest ordeal to reminisce about with friends, if only for a few class periods.