This is what Charlotte writes.

10.26.07

I stare at the screen, its blankness is
intimidating, taunting, telling me
that I will never succeed. I search
for my muse. Inspiration comes in all
shapes and sizes. A tall boy with dreadlocks
spurting from his cap laughs in my
direction. You are nothing but distraction.
To the left of my ripped sneakers sit
equally trashed Vans. Checkerboarded
and dirty, disappearing beneath
ragged hems of jeans. Chuckles come
from my elbow. Sinks and TVs and
smashed things. A-sauce is weird. But
laughing at her spurs me to write, so
write I do. I think I’ve found my muse. However…
I wouldn’t mind a little distraction.