The People in My Head

I have writers block. I can’t find a good book to read and I’m struggling to write the climax of my nanowrimo novel. So I wrote this instead.

I was standing on a stage in a dark room with no doors. It was a familiar place; I had been there many times before. It was like a black box theater, similar to the one we had at my school. Except this one was in my head.
Around the stage I was on were rows of seats, each set a little higher than the one before it. The seats were packed with all sorts of people.

“Now, look here guys,” I said to the people in my head. “We’ve got a story to write. This is the climax, the most important part. We’ve gotta do something good. Any ideas?”

The room was silent for a moment, the people all thinking hard.

“Kill the Joker,” Batman suggested from the shadows in his deep growly voice.

“That is the most ridiculous idea I’ve ever heard,” Thranduil said pretentiously. He tossed his fabulous elf hair over his shoulder. “It doesn’t even include any elves or great animals. If there’s not an elf riding a moose, how can it be a good climax?”

“The Joker isn’t even in this part,” Tinkerbell pointed out sweetly. Her wings fluttered as she hovered over her seat. “Or this story at all. Maybe we should just leave the setting we’re at and go to Neverland!”

“Or Hoth,” Princess Leia suggested as she braided her hair. “That’s where the rebel base is located. They could help move the plot along.”

“I hate Hoth,” Luke Skywalker muttered.

“You could have the backstory of one character randomly show up and influence what’s happening at the present time,” Jayne said. A huge gun sat in his lap. He cleaned it carefully. The people sitting around Jayne watched him very warily.

“Or a crazy girl wanted by the government,” Malcolm Reynolds suggested from next to Jayne. “That always seems to speed things along.”

“Those ideas are… ridiculous,” Snape said, drawing out each word. He had a cauldron in front of him and was brewing some sort of potion. “Maybe we should… turn to page 394 and repeat what happened then.”

“No, no, no,” Willy Wonka spoke up from behind me. I turned to face him as he stood up. “We should just go eat some chocolate, then come back to write this part.”

“I second that notion,” Abraham Lincoln agreed from next to Wonka. “A house divided is incapable of writing climaxes.”

“No, we’re going to do this now,” I said firmly. “We’re going to write the climax right now, today, because we’ve been putting it off for too long.”

“Like how we’ve been putting off your school projects,” Thranduil commented.

I gritted my teeth. I really needed to work on those. “Yes, Thranduil. Like that.”

“Maybe we should just go read a book,” Hermione piped up. “Books are good. Let’s go to the library.”

Annabeth, sitting next to Hermione, had a book in hand at the moment. 

“That’s a great idea,” she agreed, brushing her curly blonde hair out of her face as she looked up from her book. “Let’s read a book instead of writing a climax.”

“Eat chocolate and read a book,” Willy Wonka said, his eyes gleaming excitedly. “Eat a book made of chocolate.”

“That is the…silliest thing…I’ve ever heard,” Snape said, stirring his potion.

“Oh, be nice, Snape,” Ariel snapped. She sat in a giant fishbowl at the back of the room, her tail fluttering to keep her above the surface. “Don’t be such a guppy.”

“I think,” Jack Sparrow started as he stumbled towards me. “I think that the climax that needs writing is the climactic part of the writing, therefore whatever you write will be a climax, because you wrote it climactically. Savvy?”

“Uhh, savvy,” I said, a little confused. “Sit down, Jack.”

“Captain Jack,” he corrected, falling into a seat next to Westley and Buttercup.

“Pirates,” Tinkerbell muttered, shaking her head. “I hate pirates.”

“Perhaps we need a good plot twist,” Westley suggested in his perfect British accent. “Such as “I am also not left-handed.””

“Oh, or maybe your antagonist could turn out to be the protagonist’s father!” Luke Skywalker said excitedly.

“Or that Harry actually is the last horcrux,” Dumbledore added.

“What?” Hermione asked concernedly.

“Nothing, nothing,” Dumbledore said, looking away. Snape shook his head, still stirring.

“It could be a small person that ends up being the most important player in your quest to destroy the ring,” Gandalf suggested.

“Or your handsome, dashing hero turns out to not be dead, just mostly dead,” Westley said with a smile.

 “That’s all great,” I said appreciatively. “A plot twist is a great idea. Now we’re getting somewhere. Except for the fact that all the plot twists you said have been done before.”

The room quieted, each individual thinking hard.

“It’s going to take us four score and seven years to figure this one out,” Abraham Lincoln said glumly.

“Forget it,” I said frustratedly. “We’ll write it tomorrow. I’ll just go blog or something.”

“Grab some chocolate while you’re at it,” Willy Wonka piped up.

If you have any suggestions on how to beat writers block, or opinions about my short story, feel free to comment and let me know!


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