Writer’s block

For English, we’ve been given the task of writing a children’s story. It’s particularly hard to write for children, because they are stupid, and haven’t heard of most of my favourite words (such as assassin and nemesis, among others). Also, apparently it has to be appropriate for that audience, which rules out all those fun genocide ideas I had.

All the other ideas seem to revolve around the retelling of stories that already exist. The retelling of the Lion King but with tigers, the Tiger King (I am too hilarious), Hansel and Gretel with the twist that they are evil and the witch is good, and a retelling of Schindler’s List but with ducks. Trust me, it would’ve worked.

I still don’t know what to do. Point is, like everyone who’s tried to write a significant amount of anything, I’ve run out of ideas. That don’t involve ducks anyway. Which is the same problem I’m having writing this blog, so I thought that instead of getting stuck with writer’s block, I’d write about it.

I know, so self-aware and post-modern. It’s the kind of thing that a clever person would write. But worse.