Ever have so much to say that you can't write a single damn word?
I sit alone in my four-cornered room staring at candles.
Sometimes I think Scarface knows me.
His words fit to a tee, as my daddy used to say. I think.
We met once, Scarface and I. Maybe thrice.
I can't quite recall.
Summer Jam '97.
I stood backstage. He walked by. My hesitation matched his timing.
Damn.
I wanted to tell him he's my favorite rapper. And that I think EVERYONE has borrowed from him.
Name a great.
A sista standing next to me—I think her name was Crystal—said, "You in the industry too. You better go meet your favorite."
Word to my mama.
I walked up to Face, looked him square, stuck out my hand.
He smirked.
Embrace tight. Like, "Nigga, if you try anything..."
This was when he had his weight up, too. Real vice-grippy.
I remember it well.
I think.
Music was loud. Aaliyah was singing. (Another story.)
So I made sure he could hear me, barely able to breathe. Grip had my ribs touching.
"Dog, I think you're the coldest."
In that recognizable instrument of his:
"Thanks, fam. I just be fucking with the music."
—Scarface, Summer Jam 1997.
The second time we "met" was on Twitter.
I hit him about Smile, the record he did with Tupac. Told him I thought it was really Pac's song because he'd given Pac the room to breathe on it.
Face told me that was his dude. That the song just felt like Pac. So he took his verse off.
What we hear is the song.
Damn.
Our conversation continued, and at one point, he told me something I've never forgotten.
He puts the most into his first four bars.
Because if those are heavy, the rest of the verse is a breeze.
I'll be gotdamn if I didn't go back and listen to verse after verse.
And I'll be gotdamn...
Take that journey sometime. Especially if you're a fan. Even musically, it's a treat to listen from that perspective.
The third time was at Yoshi's.
I think.
Backstage after his concert. A sista named Tiffany spoke highly of me to Face.
We hugged.
Just as tight. But this time, love in the embrace.
I told him I thought Deeply Rooted was deeply underappreciated. One of his finer pieces of art, of which he has many.
I think maybe eight classics.
Argue with yourself.
I'm talking bodies of work, baby.
The conversation allowed for a detailing.
Thank you, Face.
I'd like to think if he saw me today, he'd recognize me.
He noted my smile.
Now...
I'm so far off the point it's ridiculous.
But the truth is, that's exactly the point.
I'm able to spill right now.
Get these words out.
So just about ANYTHING I start talking about?
I'm gonna talk about.
Because just moments ago?
Nothing.
NOTHING.
Couldn't form a sentence.
Couldn't structure a sequence of words that made any sense other than:
Fool, release the pen. NOW!
It's been days.
Weeks even.
My belly is full. Not from food, but from food for thought. Or lack thereof.
Sitting heavy on my intestines and intentions.
Wait.
Maybe that's good.
Maybe I can shit them out.
Noun, verb, adjective, adverb, participle...
Whatever the fuck.
GET THE FUCK OUT!
Especially you, adjective.
So I can at least explain this shit.
Cue Fantasia.
What's happening to me?!
It doesn't feel like she's singing.
Feels like she's sitting all that good body on my chest, and somehow all of Barkley's bullshit is on her shoulders.
I see your face!
It's a three-count.
King Kong Bundy is screaming, "Five! Five!"
Doesn't matter.
It's over.
Nothing is coming out.
I sit alone in my four-cornered room staring at candles.
Sometimes I wonder if Scarface knows me.
Sure he does.
I'm sure he too has experienced this very thing I'm at odds with, and will be for an eternity.
Because he too needs—absolutely LIVES FOR—getting his words out.
Punk-ass writer's block.
The kryptonite to Superman.
Delilah to Samson.
Eve to Adam.
A writer's worst nightmare.
We bodily NEED to get that something out.
And you just...
Cannot.
Run-on sentences.
Thrown-away paragraphs.
Piecing through elements to see if something will stick.
If something will match.
Please.
Give me something.
My jump shot is awful, as evidenced by all the scrunched-up papers near the garbage can.
Excuse me as I touch the sky.
A flame appears from a dusty tray floored with white ash.
Sativa announces itself through aroma.
A pause.
Nothing.
Tick-tock.
Pacing.
Social media.
Hotlink sandwich, cooked till it bust.
Fries.
Grape Shasta.
You know, grape soda. Though I don't drink them like that.
Oh, wait. I was talking about the food I was eating.
Hold up.
What's that?
A light of some sort.
Out of nowhere...
I start to move.
Words become sentences.
Focus is defined.
Art. Theater. Prose. Dialogue. Truth. Realism.
They start appearing on a page.
Two pages.
Three pages.
And so on.
There I was, somewhere in the darkness, roaming around without a clue. Nothing thoughtful seeming to stick.
And then...
The door creaked open.
In slid an ignition.
A starter.
A trigger.
Writer's block's one true foe.
Who knows when she'll show up?
But when she does?
She always shows out.
I used to love her.
And I still do.
Because who I'm talking about is...
Inspiration.
Ain't nothing more proven in moving mountains.
And here's the funny thing.
I started writing this because I couldn't write.
No outline. No structure. No destination.
Just a memory of Scarface, a room full of frustration, and a pen I refused to put down.
Somewhere between all that nonsense, the words came back.
Maybe that's the thing about being a writer.
Sometimes the story you're trying to tell isn't the one that needs to come out.
Sometimes you just have to let the pen go where it wants.
This was all vomit.
(I hope you understand.)
I had to get it out.
Pen is just going.
Finally.
One Love.
—Smirk
Smirkface.substack.com
To my fellow writers: When the words stop coming, what brings them back? Do you walk away, fight through it, or write whatever comes to mind until something catches fire?
I'd love to hear how the rest of you wrestle with this beautiful, maddening thing we do.
2 people like this
You’ve got a cool concept here, but from a screenwriting perspective, there are a few structural weak spots that need addressing:
Genre Mismatch: Calling the door "magic" works against the horror tone...
Expand commentYou’ve got a cool concept here, but from a screenwriting perspective, there are a few structural weak spots that need addressing:
Genre Mismatch: Calling the door "magic" works against the horror tone. "Magic" leans toward fantasy/fairytales and undercuts the terror and suspense you want to build.
Plot Holes: There’s no logical explanation for why the creatures remained trapped until now, or why this portal exists in this specific neighborhood.
Flat Characters: The characters currently serve as plot devices just moving the story forward. They lack internal flaws, personal trauma, or interpersonal conflict to make the audience care.
Lack of World Rules: The script misses clear rules and boundaries—how the portal operates, what the monsters' vulnerabilities are, or what keeps them at bay.
Weak Motivation: The emotional drive for the brother and the girl to risk their lives and step into that danger isn't clearly justified.
Jasurbek, thank you so much for the detailed feedback. I really appreciate you taking the time
Hi Sooraj! I came across your post about THE GUARD. The premise of a night watchman discovering a magical door that unleashes monsters has some intriguing possibilities.
I’m a dramaturg and script cons...
Expand commentHi Sooraj! I came across your post about THE GUARD. The premise of a night watchman discovering a magical door that unleashes monsters has some intriguing possibilities.
I’m a dramaturg and script consultant, and I help writers develop story structure, character motivation, conflict, and the internal logic of their fictional worlds.
Since you’re starting the first draft, this could be a good stage to identify the key dramatic questions before they become difficult to fix later. If that would be useful, I’d be happy to tell you more about my approach to story development.
Hi Aleksei, thank you so much for reaching out and for your kind offer.
I really appreciate it. For now, I have a clear direction for THE GUARD and I know what I want to do with the story in this draft...
Expand commentHi Aleksei, thank you so much for reaching out and for your kind offer.
I really appreciate it. For now, I have a clear direction for THE GUARD and I know what I want to do with the story in this draft.
I'll definitely keep your consultancy in mind for a later stage if I need an outside perspective.
Thanks again!
Sooraj
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