Work Text:
Writer’s block always seems to hit me the hardest at the worst moments. I’ve been pressured to find new ideas since new ideas mean new stories, new stories mean more money in my pocket. I decided that a stroll in the park would be the medicine I need. I haven’t had much of a life recently and thought I could get out more anyways. It didn’t work though. I’m still fretting about storylines that go nowhere, the only difference is that I’m suffering through a summer heat wave on a bench instead of my air-conditioned office.
While cursing the sun for shining too brightly, I’m approached by a good friend of mine, Hoshimi Junna. When we were schoolmates, I may have fancied her. Looking at her now in a tank top and biker shorts, I speculate my feelings didn’t fully dissipate.
“Hey Nana, working on something I see,” she says, taking a seat next to me on the burning metal.
I nod to her, averting my eyes from her figure. She notices and puts a hand on my shoulder, a gesture meant to usher me to look her way. Her sympathetic smile greets me, and I realize it’s not my embarrassment she observes. Her eyes move to glare holes in my paper.
“You’re stuck,” her smile fades, “How often have you been trying?”
“I’m not sure.”
She laughs, “That’s a lie. Have you gone out any other time this week?”
I’m afraid to answer. Not that I think Junna would get frustrated with me. More likely she would worry, which is worse. My awkward silence is interrupted by the sound of Junna shifting to her feet. She displays an outstretched hand and whispers “come on.” Seeing no other option, I link my fingers with hers and we begin walking to nowhere in particular.
I don’t pay attention to my surroundings much, I’m more focused on what Junna has to say. She shares stories about our mutual friends that I have missed due to my current isolated state. A tinge of melancholy in her voice tells me she wishes I was there. I share the sentiment, being alone is my biggest fear. I enjoy being with people and I enjoy writing. However, writing is my job and being in others’ company is not. I’m snapped out of my mind when I collide with a lamp post.
Junna raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you were so clumsy,” she says.
“It’s a new development,” I say.
I trip over my feet more times than I would like while out with Junna. It’s what I get for living my life in my head. My anxieties break my posture and mental obstacles make me lose my footing. I know the hurdles my protagonists face before they appear, but the same can’t be said for the rocks in the sidewalk. Before I know it, sweat isn't the only thing dripping from my face.
"Nana, why are you crying? It wasn't that embarrassing," Junna says.
"I wish I was strong. I wish I was smart. I write all these characters that I'm envious of. Every one of them has a problem, but they get over it and become a better person. When is that going to happen to me? I face so many hardships like them. The difference is I never change,” I say, trying to wipe away my seemingly endless supply of tears.
I know why I don’t change. It’s because I don’t want to. The future is unknown, and what I can’t predict scares me. There may be something wonderful down the road, but I can only think of the risks that await. I’m stuck between two deep rooted fears that contradict each other. To change is terrifying and to not change is miserable. I have no way out.
“In that case, write a protagonist that’s a coward,” Junna says. “Make their fears ridiculous and their actions to combat those fears as exaggerated as possible.”
I kick at the ground and say, “Why? To make myself feel better? To say that at least I’m not paranoid about anything and everything? I’m starting to think that I’m the type of person you’re describing. It wouldn’t work.”
“No, you have it the wrong way,” Junna says. “I was going to say that the protagonist would eventually circle their way back to normalcy, but maybe this isn’t the right way to approach it. At least not for you.”
She crouches to the ground and gestures to me to do so as well. I hesitantly lower myself to my knees. Junna points to a line of ants marching in a row.
“Think of your protagonist- no, yourself like an ant. You’re in constant danger and can’t get much done by yourself. If you refuse to accept the help of others to carry your burden, you won’t make any progress,” she turns her head to smile at me. “I don’t think that fear itself is what’s blocking you from success and happiness. It’s that you don’t want to worry anyone else about your problems. Then you get so caught up in your burden that you give up hope and can’t write a satisfying ending. For your book and yourself, I mean.”
I try to squeak out a reply, but my voice shakes too much. Junna leans in to hug me. The temperature makes the experience slightly awkward. I don’t mind though; I admit I need attention. Junna just preached the ways of co-dependency to me, it’s not as if I can brush her off. It’ll take a while to correctly practice this behavior, but Junna will be there for me. She’s never abandoned me before. I hope this moment means she won’t leave now.
“I’ll take your ideas into consideration,” I say.
“For the book, yourself, or both?”
I take a deep breath and break away from the hug. “For both.”