By Bob Brown
Well, today is the dreaded April 15th. Procrastinators everywhere are going wild. They’re frantically searching for accountants and post offices, and complaining that everything isn’t open till midnight. Now I’m here in my room typing on my blog because I can’t find a pencil to write with.
If I had taxes to do, I’m sure I’d be running around like a chicken with my head cut off right now. I’m a total procrastinator. Ms. Talbot came up to me the other day.
“So, Bob, how’re you doing? How’s your next story coming along?”
I panicked. I needed another story? I thought I was already in.
“Ummm, it’s coming along. Wish it could go faster, but you know how stories are.”
“Yes, yes, I do. Well, get something that we can read and we’ll all help you, ok?”
That was far and away the last thing I wanted to do. It’s either finished or it’s not, and if it’s not, then you certainly don’t show it off.
“I’ll see what I can do, Ms. Talbot.”“Well, Bob, keep working at it. We’re all writers here so don’t be shy, ok?”
“Just keep writing. That’s what we’re here for.”
So, now here I am in my room wishing I had a nice pencil to write with. Nothing quite like writing outside in spring. I think I should get back to that. Maybe Mitch has a pencil I could borrow.
Mitch had more than a pencil for me to borrow. At first, it was like talking to a reporter. Everything was questioned.
“So, why do you need a pencil?”
He spoke with a calm, friendly tone.
“Well, I wanted to write outside and I don’t own a laptop and I seem to have lost my pencils.”
“Really? What are you writing?”
“I don’t know. I just know Ms. Talbot asked me where my second story is and I know I don’t have one. So, I have to get cracking on it.”
“That still doesn’t answer the question. If you’re sitting down to write, you must have some story in you.”
“I guess I do, but I don’t know if I want to share that one here.”
“All writing is personal. If it isn’t personal, it isn’t really interesting, now, is it?”
“I suppose. However, it remains I really don’t want to share this with everyone right now.”
“True, so, do you have an old story you could give her to buy you some time?”
“Actually, I do. Thanks, Mitch.”
He tossed a pencil at me.
“That doesn’t mean you stop writing.”
I think I might need to move my room a little closer to his.