She sat at her desk, fingers poised over the keyboard. Mind a wash of white.
While out today she had a bundle of ideas, but the reality of putting them to use paralysed her. Fear clawed at her neck and shoulders and she let it drag her down.
She leapt to her bed and tugged at the sheets. She was a hack, a fool. She wanted to laugh at herself if not for the tears beading in her eyes. What am I doing with myself?
She cried for the time she has wasted, and for disbelieving in herself yet again. She swiped her eyes and rose from bed. She splashed cold water on her face and plonked herself in front of the laptop.
Write, damn you, write!
Her fingers hurried against the keys, and soon, paragraphs rushed the screen. It may not be a masterpiece, but she was back.