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Having finished the scrambled eggs, Peter put the plate in the sink, took a mug of coffee from the table, and went into the room, to the computer.
Entering the room, he turned on the computer, sat down in a chair, and placed a mug of coffee near the monitor.
The computer booted.
Peter connected the Internet and opened his page on the social network. Then he opened the office program in which he wrote the book. Scrolling to the very bottom of the text, he began to think about a new chapter, but no thoughts came to mind.
We need to come up with something. Peter thought, looking at the white sheet frozen on the monitor.
He switched back to the social network page. But even there he did not find any ideas.
These are only fragments, short moments, literally one paragraph, or even worse, one sentence, but you need to write a whole book. he thought. «You cant write a whole book with only one paragraph.» Yes, I went to a social network. I can write about this, but its one sentence. And if I start describing in detail what buttons I pressed when I went to the social network, then the publisher will not like it, and he simply will not accept my book for publication. The book should be interesting, and what is interesting in reading about what buttons the main character presses to enter a social network. I already overload the book with descriptions of actions in order to somehow fill the chapters with text. Now I can only envy those who easily write books of five hundred pages and use a minimum of descriptions. Where do they even get the text from if they dont really describe anything, and at the same time use a minimum of dialogue? Maybe its all about actions? More action. My hero is like a plant, sitting at the computer, and Im trying to stretch these gatherings over a whole chapter. And in those books, by those writers, the heroes are constantly in action, events are constantly changing, developing, something is constantly happening there. But on the other hand, Im writing a boring book, which means I shouldnt have any action. Its just a boring book, thats what I intended, thats what I want. A book that girls will hold in their hands and get bored with it, sitting over the text. And the text itself will be boring, repetitive, and formulaic. No originality. Yes, that will be the motto of my book: «No originality.» Why should I invent something that has already been invented a long time ago? If I cant write compelling stories, that means Im untalented, and then I either shouldnt write at all, or I should write the way I know how to write. Im not a writer. I just want money, I want to get rich, I wrote a boring book. This means that I dont need to try to stand out with the originality of the text. Ill just write a boring book, so boring that even the publisher will tell me: «Your book is the most boring and boring book Ive ever read.» And then I will answer him: «It was planned that way.» «Really?» he will ask. «Yes, of course,» I will answer, «Its a classic.» And it is true. All the classics are boring. And for me, modern classics. And in general, it seems that I am starting to feel depressed.
Peter turned his attention to the social network. He typed the phrase «Depression» into the search, and he was given several dozen groups dedicated to depression. He chose the most popular group and joined it.
Posts hung on the monitor, to which various photographs were attached, with captions. The photographs were gray and dull, just like the mood of those who entered this group.
What am I doing here? Peter thought.
He started reading posts and comments on them.
Under one of the photographs, he saw a comment from a girl named Sveta, who was talking about her experience of struggling with depression. Peter carefully read the comment and decided to ask her.
What to do if you think you are getting depressed? he wrote in the comments to the photo, addressing Sveta.
The answer came within two minutes.
First, try not to think about the fact that you are depressed. Thoughts about depression intensify the state of depression itself.
I dont even think about her, Im just writing a book, but no thoughts come into my head, and because of this, it seems to me that Im starting to feel depressed. Peter answered in the comment.
What is this book about? asked Sveta, writing in the comment.
Well, its about a writer. About how a guy writes a book.
Interesting, I guess.
I dont know, the readers will judge.
If you dont know what to write about, then take a break and rest. This should help. Distract yourself from something else, watch a movie, or listen to music.
Yes, youre probably right. Need to watch some movie.
Go chat in private messages. one of the guests of the group wrote.
Sveta wrote to Peter in private messages:
Hello, if you want, you can write to me. By the way, why dont you have friends?
I dont know, I dont communicate with anyone.
Can I add you?
Yes, sure.
Sveta added Peter as a friend. Peter did the same.
Well, now you have friends.
Yes, its cool.
Have you written a lot already? Im talking about the book.
No, only three chapters.
Its difficult. You need to invent and then write.
Yes, you have to sit for several hours on each chapter. It happens even half a day.
Sorry, I need to leave, Im at work now. Then the authorities came.
Fine.
Peters mood improved somewhat. He made his first friend on a social network, and it was a pretty girl. Peter took a sip of coffee and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head.
Why not write about it. About how I met a girl. Peter thought.
The keys jingled in the keyhole. The door opened and Christina entered the apartment. Peter watched her through the slightly open door. She took off her briefcase and threw it in the corridor. Then she took off her shoes and immediately went to Peters room.
Give me the computer, I urgently need to write to my friend. she said, standing next to Peter.
Peter looked at the monitor, then at his sister, and reluctantly crawled out from behind the computer. The sister sat down in a chair and began to enter the username and password for her social network page.
Stepping away from the computer, Peter lay down on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. Now his thoughts were not absorbed only by the book, there was a place in them for Sveta. Peter didnt really look at her photograph, but, at first glance, Sveta seemed quite attractive to him.
After lying on the sofa for about ten minutes, Peter got up, took a mug with the remaining coffee from the table, and went to the kitchen to pour new, hot coffee. The sister was sitting on the computer, communicating with someone on a social network, and at the same time watching videos of popular bloggers.
Make me something to eat! the sister shouted after him as Peter left the room.
Fine.
Having reached the kitchen, Peter turned on the kettle, put the mug on the table, and climbed into the refrigerator to figure out what to cook for his sister for lunch.
Make me some dumplings! the sisters voice was heard.
Peter closed the refrigerator and opened the freezer. From there he took a pack of dumplings.
Fry them! was heard from the room again.
Putting a pack of dumplings on the table, Peter lit the gas under the frying pan and poured some vegetable oil into it. Then he took a pack of dumplings, opened it, and counted out twenty dumplings, which he placed on the frying pan. The dumplings sizzled. Peter turned down the gas so they wouldnt burn and put the leftovers back in the freezer.
Closing the frying pan with a lid, Peter poured himself a new mug of coffee and sat down at the table. Sitting at the table, he began to watch TV. A program about travel was shown on TV. At that moment, Peter thought that if he could earn money, if his book was published and he would earn a lot of money from it, then he would certainly go on a trip too. I would go to some exotic country, to Egypt, or to China, or maybe I would go to Dubai. There were many places to go, but there was no money.