Elaine anxiously strummed her fingers against the keyboard of her computer, each finger making a muffled thud as it struck the smooth surface. Every word she began to write echoed mediocrity or inanity, so she would tap the backspace button with repeated fervor until every accursed word vanished. This cycle of typing and deleting would continue for hours until Elaine finally threw up her hands and walked away discouraged. Truth be told, Elaine never wrote much of anything. In fact, she was incapable of writing more than four or five pages without discarding the piece as unfit to be finished. However, Elaine persisted with her writing endeavors despite her numerous failed attempts.
Though Elaine wrote with difficulty, she read avidly. She possessed an extensive library filled with some of her most beloved authors: James Joyce, Charles Dickens, Kurt Vonnegut, Ernest Hemingway, George Eliot. Each book captured a certain part of her soul and held that grasp intently. Elaine cried for Heathcliff, empathized with Holden Caulfield, rejoiced with Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. Not only did she feel for the stories' characters, but she felt an acute connection with the authors as well. After having read The Grapes of Wrath, Elaine chattered about John Steinbeck as if she frequently invited him over for tea. Shakespeare became her idol at the age of ten, and she read all of his works by the age of twelve. People often declared that Elaine's purpose in life was only to read.
Naturally, Elaine was majoring in English and minoring in creative writing. Now, she could handle the little prompts thrown at her in the creative writing courses, but writing a novel intimidated Elaine to no end. Once she started writing, she would worry about the tone, the themes, the symbols, the motifs, everything but the plot itself. These worries suffocated her until she ceased the venture completely. Some say she panicked under the pressure. Others say she suffered from an inferiority complex. Regardless of these various theories, Elaine remained dubious as to what impeded her writing ability.
Though Elaine wrote with difficulty, she read avidly. She possessed an extensive library filled with some of her most beloved authors: James Joyce, Charles Dickens, Kurt Vonnegut, Ernest Hemingway, George Eliot. Each book captured a certain part of her soul and held that grasp intently. Elaine cried for Heathcliff, empathized with Holden Caulfield, rejoiced with Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. Not only did she feel for the stories' characters, but she felt an acute connection with the authors as well. After having read The Grapes of Wrath, Elaine chattered about John Steinbeck as if she frequently invited him over for tea. Shakespeare became her idol at the age of ten, and she read all of his works by the age of twelve. People often declared that Elaine's purpose in life was only to read.
Naturally, Elaine was majoring in English and minoring in creative writing. Now, she could handle the little prompts thrown at her in the creative writing courses, but writing a novel intimidated Elaine to no end. Once she started writing, she would worry about the tone, the themes, the symbols, the motifs, everything but the plot itself. These worries suffocated her until she ceased the venture completely. Some say she panicked under the pressure. Others say she suffered from an inferiority complex. Regardless of these various theories, Elaine remained dubious as to what impeded her writing ability.
