I used to always believe that writing was as easy as counting to three, or at least the part about getting started. I mean how hard could it be to put random thoughts that would eventually form a story on a blank sheet of paper? When I heard people complain saying, “I’m stuck” or “I don’t to know what to write” or (my favorite) “How do I get started”. I would always think, Seriously guys, It’s not that hard. Just pick something or someone. There are so many topics you could write about, the ideas are endless. Now I was on the other side of the chain link fence and I finally understood how those people felt. Who was I kidding, writing was tough!

I stared at the empty computer screen, a task I had been doing for several hours. The white, bluish light that emanated from the screen was now dark and the steady hum, hum of the computer had been silenced long ago. I sat there frustrated, aggravated, irritated beyond belief. I’d searched and picked and pulled and squeezed my mind for ideas till it was bone dry, till a headache had brought me to a standstill in my relentless quest to find an intriguing plot. I had wasted already half my day in this pointless endeavor. I gave one last exasperated sigh and decide to call it quits for the day. I didn’t think my shriveled up, pruning brain could handle much more.

I went to the kitchen looking for something to eat. Perhaps some good O’l ramen would get those brain juices flowing again. The kitchen was small and cluttered with an excessive amount of pictures on the refrigerator. They were held together with magnets that had funny mottos on them. I took a closer look at one, hoping for some inspiration. "When on the ladder of success, don't let boys look up your dress!" I chuckled, my eyes traveling to a picture that hung nearby. It was picture of my sister, a group of our close friends and me, standing on the Great Wall of China. In the picture our arms flung over one another haphazardly, our hair flying carelessly in the wind, grinning from ear to ear as we stared at the camera. I looked at another one. This one was a black and white photo of Marcus and I at the Grand Canyon. His arms around me as we threw our heads back in a silent laughter that would stay forever-frozen in time. Those were some of my most cherished memories. They had made taking a year off after college to travel the world and around the US that much more worth it, even if it had left me with an empty bank account.

After eating my chicken ramen while aimlessly looking at more pictures, I finally convinced myself to stop lollygagging and do something productive before Kenenni came home. I went around the apartment picking stuff off the floor. I cleaned dirty dishes in the sink, vacuumed the rugs and wiped all surfaces. Our apartment was a two bedroom, with lots of windows and was located on the top floor. Kenenni and I had been searching for an apartment in Downtown Denver for several weeks and were about to give up when we ran across this small, but nice apartment for 12 hundred bucks a month. We’d considered it a miracle seeing as most cost around 2 thousand dollars. The walls were lilac, not my first choice I must admit, but when you had front row seats of the setting sun, that flaw was easy to overlook.

By the end of the night I was back where I started, on the coach, in my PJs, looking at an empty computer screen. The keys in the front door jingled.

“Hey egghead, I’m home.” Kenenni hollered.
“Hi butthead, how was your day? Hopefully better than mine.” Even though Kenenni and I had grown older the way we talked to each other hadn’t changed and I hope it never would.
“It was ok. No such luck, huh?” I knew she was talking about the writing. I shook my head as a silent answer. “You can’t keep going like this Hanni, I can’t keep covering for you. I’m barley making ends meet as it is.”
“I know, I know…” I heaved a big sigh. “It just-. I gotta first get a good story line for my next book and which I’m sure will become a best seller as soon as I find something interesting to write about and once I make money off that then I can pay you and then pay for my student loans and move in with Marcus and go to grad school and…” I knew I was ranting, but once I started it was hard to stop.
“Wait, wait, wait-What?” She was incredulous. “You’re moving in with Marcus? You never talked to me about this? Do Mom and Dad know?”
“I’m twenty-five, I don’t need to check with you guys every time I make a decision.”
“But it would be nice if you mentioned it.”
“Fine. Kenenni I’m moving in with Marcus. You happy? I just told you.”
“No need to be a smartass. I’m just trying to look out for you.” That was kind of mean especially after all she’d done for me.
“I’m sorry.” And I really meant it. “It’s just that we’ve been together since my third year at Harvard, we’re at the point in our relationship where it’s either go big,” I tried to use my hands to indicate the severity of the situation. “Or go home and frankly I’d rather do the first.”
“You’ve been together for only five years Hanni! What if he’s an ax murder?” I looked at her in disbelief, the computer sat forgotten beside me.
“Do you hear yourself Kenenni, five years, five years.” I put five fingers in front of her face trying to get my point across.
“Ok, ok, I get it. Sheesh.”
“You sure are something you know that, Sis.” She didn’t answer, but instead gave me a mischievous smile. Her eyes lost their playful glint and once again became serious.
“How is the writing really going?”
“I just don’t know how to start or even what to write about. It’s like there’s this block in my mind preventing me from accessing all my good ideas. And I’ve tried so hard and yet still, I can’t seem to find anything interesting to write about. That is the one rule of writing, it has to be interesting.” My face was contorted into an unattractive expression as I tried to find words that that would describe what writers block was like.
“Instead being so focused on trying to write about new ideas, why don’t you write about what you already know, but in an interesting fashion or with an interesting twist. Isn’t that what your 7th grade teacher said, write about what you know.” I contemplated those words. “Don’t forget that tomorrow you have a class to teach at Life Time Fitness and your Dear Abby column is due tomorrow as well.”
“I already sent that in Mom. You don’t always have to take a care of me Kenenni, I am capable on my own, either way though I appreciate the thought Sis.” We often argued about this subject.
“I had a long day today and I already ate at work so I think I’m going to call it a night. Don’t stay up too late. Night egghead.”
“I love you too.” I hollered as she shut the door to her bed room. Before the door slammed closed she gave me a look that said, “Whatever”. She never could say those words, but I knew “Night egghead” meant the same. I had learned to read my sister long ago.



That night I tossed and turned as I ran my sister’s words through my head. “Write about what you know. Write about what you know. Write about what you know.” Those five words echoed and repeated and bounced and ricocheted off each other till they became a jumble of mix words that had lost the ability to form a cohesive sentence. What did I know. I made a list in my mind. I know that the Earth is round, I know George Washington was the first president, I know that pi s 3.141592 and so on, but I don’t think she meant things like that. I know a lot about the relationship between sisters, I know about being in love, I know what it’s like to have amazing friends and I know what qualities make a good story. So I started from there. Before long I had weaved a tale filled with adventure, love, loss, betrayal and the true bond between sisters, my writer’s block finally lifted. By then it was one in the morning, the city below lay quiet and sleeping. I lurched out of bed, grabbed my lap top and by the glow of the full moon typed out a riveting story, one that would capture and ensnare the reader in a world where dragons were real and humans had the ability to fly. Somehow deep in my bones I just knew that this would by my lucky break, the story that would become a best seller and without a fear of getting blocked again I dove in, head first.