This article's nothing but shit.
I think it's pretty good.
Huh?
Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to intrude.
Again?
Yeah.
You're always here.
Someone has to be here besides yourself.
Do you think people will like this story?
I'm sure they will.
It's just stupid…
Nothing is really stupid. Sometimes it's just not what it can really be.
What if I don't know how to make something as it should be?
Find out how. Shouldn't be that hard.
You think so?
I think you could give it a shot.
.
.
.
A blank computer screen sat in front of Regal. He was an avid writer; it was something he has been doing for some time. But tonight, he sat at one of the worst writer's block he's had in some time. It didn't feel like a block, though. Blocks were easy to move. A child could move a block easily with its own hands, just as he could if he wanted. This felt more like a wall. A towering wall made of the sturdiest materials known to man. He couldn't break through it, and there was no way around the wall this time. It was so surmountable it passed through the clouds in his mind, so deep he could feel it in his gut. There was so much he wanted to put onto that blank screen in front of him. The thoughts were pushing against the wall, the pressure increasing but never giving way.
Regal's mind was racing with ideas. Perhaps he'd write something about the floral shop that's closing next month? Oh, but no one really cared about that poor old shop except him. Perhaps a food critic on the pizzeria he ordered a New York Style pizza from a few days back. He still remembered the warm, gooey cheese and the delicious, savory sauce of the family-owned pizzeria. It was the best slice of pizza he'd eaten in a long time. No, no. Too obscure. No one cares about family-owned stores as much as they did the big companies. That story would probably be lost in the stampede of cheap bread stick advertisements online. He could see it now.
He was struggling to make an interesting story for the newsletter that he worked for, and if he couldn't make something new soon, well… The boss wouldn't be very happy with him. He'd have to find a new job instead, with new coworkers he didn't know, a new boss that may be even worse than-
You're over-thinking again, aren't you? Regal's subconscious cut off that last, horrible thought. As much as he didn't need anything new in his head cluttering his thoughts, it was enjoyable to have some company. "I just can't seem to come up with a story for my newsletter that people would want to read. Like, I know they'll read it anyways, but will they really care about it?" Regal slumped down in his chair. If they choose to read it, then they're bound to somewhat care about it. Regal sat up, sighed, and once again assuming a slouch that was worse than the previous. "I just can't get over the feeling though. Am I really writing something that people like or do they read it like there's nothing else to do?"
Regal's subconscious thought for a moment before responding. Some people just aren't that interested in these. I know you want then to enjoy your work; and a lot of people do enjoy it already! Unfortunately, not everyone's particularly interested in the same thing, which doesn't help anyone. If you really want to know what people want, just ask.
"Just ask?"
Yup.
"Just like that?"
Just like that.
"You're kidding?"
"…"
"…Well, if you say so."
Regal sat up, ready to face the towering wall again. With new ideas coming through, the dam finally bursts, and the computer fills with letters as he began to write once again…
.
.
.
Did you ask?
You're back?
Didn't answer my question.
Yeah, I asked. And well…
Well what?
The new draft's doing well.
That's great!
Yeah, it is.
You sound off. What's wrong?
Is it… lazy to ask for help?
Absolutely not. If it helps you write, then do it.
…
Thank you.
Of course, Regal. Someone's always here to help.