Let's try something new.
My name is Eve, and I want to write. God, how I want to write. The idea of sitting at my laptop and typing and typing, creating a world with my fingertips and watching stories unfold, characters arc and evolve – all pouring out from inside my head – is one I frequently indulge in. I imagine crafting sentences like pieces of art, every word a brushstroke, painting a picture that I’ve only ever seen with my eyes shut. I am in the minority that relish the writing of an essay, thankful that I have been given a point to get to. Because you see, my problem isn’t not knowing how to say things, but not knowing what to say. I have nothing to write. Clever ideas turn to dust before I even have the chance to realise them. Concepts begin to form, and then unravel as they become too convoluted for even I to understand. I know I must have an idea in there somewhere, I must have something to write – I know it in my fingertips that itch to fly over the keys, I know it in my chest that feels fit to bu