The author stares at the blank sheet of paper in front of him on his wooden desk. In his hand is a pen that he occasionally spins. The author likes to play with small objects; It’s a habit that has, on multiple occasions, given slight annoyance to the people around him. Some think he’s showing off. But who the hell shows off by spinning a pen? Come on, that's like the last skill you'd want to brag about.
The author sighs, as a clock on the wall ticks away. His brain is filled with vibrant and creative ideas, stories and characters that yearn to live out their exciting lives within the pages of a book. But there is a problem. The ideas must go through his hand. But his hand does not move. The hand can’t convey the ideas, no matter how desperately it wants to.
He decides to take a shower. Maybe he'll have some ideas when he comes back.