Dear Blank Screen,
Today I despise you. You see there are lots of thoughts in my head, it’s been that way for awhile now… there’s so much that needs to get out. Yet you block it all, you word/thought/idea blocker you. You take the inspiring, moving, awesomeness of my thoughts and flash them up on the screen in jumbled heaps of what once was.
Obviously YOU are the only one to blame, because the words are all so perfect in my brain, until you spill them out with your black simple fonts and your menacing edit suggestions.
And just in spite of you I’m going to write in BLUE. Which actually feels a tad bit better. Take that you big meanie.
And also while we’re at it, don’t think that I didn’t notice you FORCING me to take a short story idea and slam a whole friggen plot into it, taking a whole page, over 500 words just to do HALF of the intro. You silently whispering into my ears, coaxing me to keep typing. You are a new kind of evil, a lower than low bastard child of evil itself. I will not fall for your trap of telling me that I can only write novels with 50,000 words.
You should be punished. Severely punished. Tortured maybe. It should be bad, real bad, horrific even.
May this letter be a lesson to you, dear evil little blank screen and your buddies the black and white keys of death; you can make my words all jumbled and idiotic but I shall still post. Neener.