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An empty page is an author's worst enemy they'd said, and boy did it feel like it. Turner watched the black cursor flick on...and off...goading him into putting down the first shitty idea that came to him.

No...he wouldn't write for the sake of it. He was about to give up for the day when he leaned in to wipe dust off the monitor. A pixelated fist burst through the glass and gripped him by the throat.

It squeezed, the grip growing tighter. Turner's vision began to fade as he conceded that - yes - writer's block was an author's worst enemy.

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