What do you do when the words won’t come?

The Oxford Book of English Short Stories (Photo credit: dalcrose)

For the most part, while I’ve been working on my short story dance series of posts, the words have been flowing from my fingertips as quickly as my fingers can move.  But the last post took me two days to write and, even then, I wasn’t really satisfied with it. The previous posts in that series saw me smiling the entire time I was writing…not so with the last one…that one saw me typing, re-reading, deleting, getting up and pacing around, re-reading, holding my head in my hands…not quite the pleasant and joyous experience of the previous eight days or so.  What in the world was going on?

Of course I know this is only the first draft and that revision is a huge part of writing, but that last post had me questioning  myself.  And then to go through all of that and still not be satisfied with the results.

There was a ray of sunshine breaking through the dark clouds though.  As I finished that post I immediately started on the next one and it practically wrote itself…don’t think that didn’t put the smile back on my face!

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Last dance

2008 4×4 Ford F-450 Pick up truck. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Sean chuckles, “I think she likes you, Becky.  She’s a pretty special lady.  I’ve known her for years and she’s taken quite  a few of us under her wing over the years…”

Blushing, Becky half smiles at Sean’s comments.  “Well, I could tell she definitely likes you.”

Sean leans back in his chair, shrugs, and asks, “Hey, what’s not to like?”

Sean and Becky spend the rest of the evening dancing and talking, then dancing and talking some more.  They are both surprised when they hear the announcement that the club is about to close.  Sean escorts Becky out to his truck.  Petite little Becky stands there with her hands on her hips looking at the huge truck.  “This is your truck?  You actually climb in and out of this thing…without a ladder?”

“Hmm…well, I am a little taller than you, I guess.  Let me help you up.”  After opening the passenger side door, he offers Becky his hand and then realizes she’s going to need more help than that to make it up into the truck.  “I think I’ll have to lift you up so you can get in…okay?”

Becky’s cheeks flush and she looks down, then lifts her gaze up to meet Sean’s.  “Um…yeah…I think I’d have a hard time climbing up into this thing with a dress on…so…yeah…”

Sean’s  hands span her tiny waist.  Becky reaches up for his shoulders, neither of them able to take their eyes off of the other.  He effortlessly lifts her into the truck, “Watch your head, Bec.”  She nods and smiles at the nickname.  She sits down, smoothing her skirt under her legs.  Sean closes the door and runs around the front of the truck and leaps into the driver’s seat.

Shaking her head, Becky notes, “You make that seem so easy.”

Sean reaches over and envelopes her tiny hand in his much larger one, laughing…”Hey, when yer 6’6″,  big trucks are no problem…it’s those tiny little cars that make life difficult.”

Becky likes the feeling of their hands being joined, but finds herself blushing again.  Then, to her mortification, she feels tears in her eyes and quickly looks away from Sean.

“Uh..Bec…are you alright?  Did I do something wrong?”

Still not looking at Sean, she shakes her head and wipes the tears from her cheeks.  “No, it’s not you…it’s me…I just don’t know how to do this.  I’ve never been good at this.”

Sean gently touches her shoulder, “Good at what, Bec?  I’m not…not sure what you’re talking about.”