On Writer's Block

“Umm, what are you doing?”

“I am looking at the wall. Why?”

“Well. First, you are supposed to be writing right now. Second, you are paid to do so. Third, I am your boss and you are supposed to be writing or something everytime your boss comes to see you. You notice? Everybody in this room is writing except you.”

Everybody chuckles.

I smirk, then sigh.

“I invoke the writer's block privilege.”

“You invoke what?”

“I have the writer's block,” I said sheepishly.

“Uh – huh. Is it something serious? I mean have you taken your vitamins, eat well, sleep well or take a bath this morning or something? And what's that smirk for?”

“Did.I.smirk? I didn't know I smirk.”

“Well, you've been smirking since I saw you looking at that blank screen.”

“If you say so, then I must be smirking.”

I smile to the boss.

“I was told once that writers are experiencing some hard times when they are said to be on that affliction. And what I see in you is that idiotic smile.”

“I am an idiot then with a smile. And I don't just want to smile or smirk like an idiot, I want to laugh out loud like a real idiot. Because you know what, I just realized that I am now a real writer.”

“How's that so?”

“Well, the obvious thing is, only writers have the writer's block affliction, right? Well, I have it.”

“Uh – huh.”

“Why are you always doing that? I mean that 'uh – huh' thing. You see, I have the writer's block. And I am feeling awesome right now. I am a writer.”

“Uh, back to work. You incorrigible imbecile.”