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"I got nothing."

Sitting there in front of his laptop, alone, in his cold kitchen he was at a complete loss of the words he needed. "Why is this so difficult? I thought I was good at this. I thought I had some great ideas. Where are they now that I need them?" he said, digging into the depths of his imagination, searching for something, anything to write about.

"I need a cigarette, maybe that'll get my creative juices flowing. But do I really wanna go outside? Not really, but maybe the dog needs to pee." He started laughing out loud thinking of an episode of SpongeBob when he was looking for excuses to put off finishing his homework. Just the thought of that annoying, high pitched voice was screaming in his head. He needed to take a little break.

"Bubba, lets go for a walk" he yelled as he stretched his arms over his head and let out a huge yawn. Bubba the big bulldog came running down the stairs with the force of an avalanche, wagging his stub, excited that his master decided to take him around the block.

"Let’s do this quick. I got stuff to do."

He clipped the leash on the big dog and caught a glimpse of the 6 inch string of saliva hanging out of his best friend’s mouth.

"Disgusting" he sighed as he wiped the drool off.

Stepping outside, he lit his cigarette and they walked down the dark street. It was cold and the arctic air hitting him in the face suddenly woke him up an instantly something pooped in his head.

Ok, I got the well rounded character, and somewhat of a plot,” he said as the big drooling dog circled his favorite tree, again and again. “I’ll write about a writer, who has nothing to write about. Well not nothing, maybe his problem can be he has too much to write about and can’t decide what to write about. Conflict, check,” he said out loud as a young couple walked by and gave him a strange look for talking to himself. “How do they know I wasn’t talking to you, Bubs? What do they know anyway? I’m on my way to another book that should be the next New York Times Bestseller. Well, as soon as somebody else realizes how brilliant I am,” he said, reaching down with a plastic bag over his extended hand. “Gross.”

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