Short Story - Inspiration

inspiration. I stare at my screen and it stares back of me. We're used to this scenario screen and I because I'm a writer. During the week, I write speeches and articles for a big company, Onda. At the weekend, I work on Volume two of my fantasy saga Hallandale, The Chronicle of Wind. But today a Sunday I have to write a speech for the company chairman. On Monday, he's making a presentation to the supervisory board about a company reorganisation he wants to carry out. The idea does not motivate me, and so far I have only two sentences, neither of which is any good. PMP is in sync with market trends on this. Restructuring means re remain in touch with market leaders. PMP is in tune with its markets on in step with its needs. I delete both lines, but then I think of something else, and I switched to my novel Stay in tune with my needs, whispered Prince Boring or as he pulled the lovely a man JIA onto the bed beside him. On and in step with my desires, we dove thing. A text message from the chairman pops up on my mobile, asking how I'm doing super, I answer, Switching back to his speech. Nearly finished, I add, trying to sound optimistic, I stare unhappily it screen again. When we started this morning, we were both filled with energy. But now I need a drink and screen needs a charger, though I'm not even sure electricity will be enough to stop it. Dying of boredom on idea for a gravestone. Inscription comes to me and I type it in. Here lies a little Apple Mac of bits and bytes There Wa Sno Lack and Juice was in its power pack, but all its owners text was not funny. Interrupt screen and your last word isn't going to rhyme properly. Delete my cursor travels quickly backwards and clean screen to lead shiny and white again, back to square one. What exactly screen asks is blocking you? Partly it's because I have to write this corporate nonsense on a Sunday instead of continuing with The Chronicle of Wind. But it's also because I don't like the chairman. Among his many faults, he has Harry ears. Remembering this, I start pulling out the hairs on my only years. It doesn't help write my speech, but I hate Harry ears on the pain stops me thinking about being blocked. Stop! Christ green. That's a terrible habit. Going to look at something green sometimes when im blocked, I go outside smoke, look at plants for a while, and then ideas come to me. But today, after staring at a bush so hard that it starts losing leaves in embarrassment, I sit down in front of screen again with Aziz. Many ideas, as I had before. Zero. Zilch. Nada Knicks being the chairman, wants to know whether his speeches ready. He wants to practice it this evening. I can tell he's losing patience with you. In a second, I reply on, try again. With these measures, PMP finances will be out of the red and in the black. By the end of this quarter. PMP must remain within reach of our clients. But out of reach of the competition, what right screen? That second sentence. What does it even mean? I delete both, but then I realized I like the combination in and out its powerful, flexible. I think about similar combinations you can be in and out of love time pocket favor. Play a tune, touch, sink, step I switch over to the Chronicle again? No, my lord protested a man, JIA, struggling to free herself from borders, arms as the thin silk dress that barely covered her firm bosom stretch to protect her modesty. My body, maybe within your reach. But my love is forever out of your grasp. If you force yourself on me, what care? I for love, cried boring or his eyes burning with lust. I being the chairman, reminds me that I said the speech would be ready in a 2nd 30 minutes ago. I don't reply. He can't know if I've read his message in and out, in and out, in and out. I realize that in a moment or two, I won't be in work anymore. I'm going to be out of a job. I'm desperate. Isn't there anything I can send him? Prince Boris Door, right screen his speech to the barons on page 766 of Volume one after he defeated the Great Goblin Army at Door Thrax. It's just a sort of motivational nonsense. All leaders talk. I read the passage he's talking about my friends, said Bora door, opening his arms wide. You may ask why, in the hour of our triumph over the evil goblins, we should now change the way our great kingdom is governed. I would say to you now, above all is the time for change with our enemies. Week and scattered we can screen could be right with a few changes to the vocabulary. This could work. I start writing. The results of the final quarter exceeded all analysts predictions, while at the same time our competitors made huge losses. Colleagues, you may ask in this hour of triumph, why we need to consider restructuring our operations. I would say to you now, above all is the time for change. 20 minutes later, I send it out, switch off my mobile and spend the rest of the evening happily back in Hallandale with difficulty. A man jeer persuades boring or to treat her with more respect. They combine her witchcraft skills with his warrior power toe battle effluent. The evil wizard of No can do. It isn't until the next morning that I turn on my mobile again and realize something terrible has happened. Instead of sending him a two page speech about company restructuring, I've sent him the complete first volume of Hallandale, The Chronicle of Wind, all 1245 pages off it. I print out the text. I meant Ascend on. Hurry to the chairman's office. There is no way I will keep my present job. The best I can hope for is that they'll put me in the social Media team I know, and the door is thrown open by an unshaven, tired but smiling chairman. Pages from The Chronicle a scattered all over the floor. He pulls me inside and hugs me. Brilliant, he says. But bloody brilliant on And Prince Boris Door. He's based on May, isn't he?