A writer writing just to get the words out is a scary thing.

Sometime early in undergrad, I learned that I could usually battle through writer’s block as long as I kept writing. Even if it was crap, the act of writing would poke those important bits in my brain until they spewed out something of quality, at which point I could go back and delete out the crappy bits. It’s why most of the rough drafts of my literary criticism papers began with something along the lines of, “So what the hell am I going to write about this time? And why do I hate this character so much, anyway?”

Last night was a “keep poking the characters until they tell you something” night. Until 2 in the morning. The results were not pretty.

“Look! I got him out onto the dance floor! I win the bet!” Brianna announced triumphantly.

“I call foul.” Suzanne replied. “He’s on the dance floor, but he isn’t dancing. If he’s not dancing on the dance floor, it’s not really a dance floor. Underneath his feet, it’s just floor.”

This immediately set off a couple of the science majors. “So does the molecular composition of the floor change when Garrett steps on it?” Cheryl asked.

“Ooh, yeah, it must shift from the active and unstable dance floor molecules to the more stable tile floor molecules as part of a chemical reaction between the floor and the soles of his shoes. ” Carrie added. “Or maybe it’s the opposite – since the floor’s usually floor to begin with, it’s not completing the same chemical reaction under his feet that it does under everyone else’s.”

“The reaction must have some kind of catalyst. Maybe it’s kicked off by the severe lack of jive waves coming off of him.” Dashira replied.

“You mean, most people emit jive as part of their movement across dance floor, and since Garrett obviously lacks jive, he’s not providing the energy necessary to complete the reaction, the floor never transforms?” Kira asked, getting into the action.

“I wonder if we could measure jive waves somehow to determine their wavelength.” Cheryl asked.

Garrett rolled eyes and looked at Suzanne. “See what you did?”

“Hey, I’m not the one with the jive deficiency.” she replied smugly.

Yeah, today’s going to be heavy caffeine I think.