Harry Potter One Shots (Vol. I)

Some Life Experience (Zacharias Smith)

For some reason, this one gives me rom com vibes

____________________

In the few letters I received from fans - and my having fans was something I was still adjusting to - they often asked me how I was inspired and how inspiration struck me. In every few responses I penned, I mentioned that inspiration was a fickle creature that I chased by placing myself out of my routine, whether that was by going for a walk or even getting lunch outside. I lied. Each answer was a lie because no reader wanted to know that I stayed trapped inside my own home, spending fruitless hours at my desk and waiting for inspiration to approach me. The truthful answer simply wasn't motivating so I kept it to myself.

My readers didn't need to know that inspiration was fleeting and sudden and that I could do nothing to trigger it. They certainly didn't need to know that when inspiration did strike, there were just those days - and sometimes weeks and even months - where I struggled to write anything. Writer's block was very real and it was a regular affliction I faced.

It was an affliction I was currently battling through.

Leaning back in my chair, I rolled my neck to try and ease the strain that appeared after having spent hours bent over my desk. Closing my tired eyes, I squeezed them shut before glancing at the time. Five hours I had been sitting here - well, I'd gotten up multiple times to fix myself something to drink or eat or to use the bathroom. But I'd battled for hours to try and get a decent page written, hoping that when I reached the end of the page I would be inspired enough to continue.

It had been a fickle hope. When I did reach the end of the page it was littered with scratch throughs and scribbles and it was horrible. I'd go so far as to claim that it was the worst thing I'd ever written. Sighing, I sat up straight and grabbed the single page - my entire day's work. Scrunching it into a tight ball, I contemplated chucking it straight in the bin. But it didn't even deserve being relegated to the bin where, if I changed my mind, I'd fish out parchment in search of an idea I'd previously abandoned. It didn't deserve the privilege.

Clearing my desk, I fished out my wand from the drawer I'd shoved it into at the beginning of my writing process, I set the parchment aflame. I watched all my day's efforts crumble into ash and cleaned it away with a murmured spell. I was saved from having to reach for another piece of parchment by a gentle tapping on my window.

Pushing my chair away from my desk, I used my feet to push me back on the wheels of my chair until I reached the window. Stretching upwards and not even bothering to lift my bum from the seat, I opened the latch. The owl, one I instantly recognised and dreaded the sight of, hopped inside. It perched on the window, cleaning its feathers as I took the letter that I knew was from my publisher. Salazar, I was dreading reading it already.

Knowing that I wasn't going to respond to the letter today, I dismissed the owl and shut the window. Wheeling myself back to my desk, I broke the seal on the back of the letter. My eyes skimmed over it quickly; it was just as I'd thought. My publisher wanted a tentative date for the publication of my next book which - according to feedback - should include more outright romantic scenes. Apparently, readers weren't too happy with the romance simply being a thing that occurred in the hidden scenes. Setting the letter aside, I groaned and knew that I needed some caffeine before I could contemplate this newest stumbling block that was just another unneeded hurdle. This book was already hard enough to write.

Finally standing from the chair, I took a few paces back and forth to circulate the blood back around my body and then I finally left my office. Shutting the door behind me, I headed towards the kitchen and my path took me passed the fireplace which switched on. Abandoning my path to the kitchen, I turned towards the fireplace with wide eyes, knowing that I looked like a deer caught in headlights. Still, it was only when I saw Zacharias step out into the living room that I straightened out my expression. It was only Zach.