Letter to Mr Writer S Block

Dear Sir,

I would have normally begun with a pleasantry but Dr Khan tells me too much of anything is not good for one’s health. I wish to be of no inconvenience to you and desire to convey my message amicably.

You see, you think yourself to be very clever, springing your sudden attacks on unsuspecting victims and feasting on their creative juices. You hide behind the ragged paisley curtains and like a tiger behind the bushes, you wait for your chance to pounce on your prey.

But that’s where you are wrong, Mr Block. Not all of us are unsuspecting. Through the gaping slits of our ancient drapes, we can see your crooked nose and your protruding tummy (full of the voices of your other victims). Not to mention the pool of drool that collects on the floor. You make quite the mess, Writey.  Can I call you that? We’re friends after all, aren’t we?

And then we take notice of that horrible, ink-soaked stench that ominously gives away your presence. It floods into our nostrils and drains into our brains, meandering through the winding synapses as the River Nil. We realise we have been infected and look up fearfully.

As Emma storms out of the window ( syllabic snow and all), she blows your cover off completely. And there you stand – wide-mouthed, ready to take your first swig from this person. Has no one ever told you to brush your teeth, Writey? See how black they are. Ink sticks to your teeth, I suppose. But brush you must. Even vampires do that.

I’m not sure how you feel after that. Perhaps you complain about the person’s singular taste for romantic horror. Or perhaps you ponder over the exceedingly alien flavour of the space-time fabric. Or perhaps you enjoy the Prose Milkshake, sip-by-sip, savouring it for weeks. You have your favourites as well, I assume – the ones you care for so dearly, that you cannot live for a month without them. That is called an addiction, my dear. And it doesn’t do well to be an addict. Dr Khan knows an excellent rehabilitation centre just a few miles away from Atlantis. The results, I gather, are tremendous!

As a good friend of yours, I advise you to take a break from your job. Of course, you really are an inspiration to those who want to make their passion their chief employ, but a workaholic often tends to miss out on the better things life has to offer.

Have you got a Mrs Block? No? Well, you must find one! Go on, then. You deserve a honeymoon for all your exemplary efforts so far. I urge you to seek the love of your life and let the work pile up. It can look after itself for some time.

I only have your health and well-being in mind, Writey. You are an old man and you do not deserve to live your life in solitude and selfish service. I’ll ask Dr Khan to send you the address. Do visit that place and save yourself. All the best, dear.

Not hoping to receive a reply from you. 🙂




Written based on a prompt on blog.reedsy.com 







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