Joke_About_Writers_Block

by Bodnotbod 

This guy called Robert Bloch is face down in his typewriter one day, sobbing. The tears streaming down his face and through the keys. His friend walks in and says,

 

 "Oh my God! What's wrong!?"

 

Robert says, "it's no good. I can't write. Every time I try I just end up writing the same story I wrote last year. It's hopeless. I don't have one single original thought. I just keep typing the same screenplay again and again and again." 

 

His friend says, "OK. Take it easy. You've got writer's block. Everybody gets it from time to time. But there are ways to deal with it. We'll soon fix you up."


"Really?" 


"Sure. Sure.  Here's what we do." His friend pulls a bag and a sheet of paper out of his pocket. "This piece of paper has the bare bones of some story ideas on. And in the bag there's lots of slips of paper with random words on which you put in the story. You don't have to do a thing. The story writes itself."


"I don't believe it."


"Well, let's try it. What have you got to lose?"


"Nothing I guess. OK, how do we start?"

 

His friend looks at the piece of paper. "According to this, first we have a heroine. But she's stolen something. Here, take a word from the bag. No looking. You pick blind."

 

"It says 'money'."

 

"Well,  that'll work. Now we need somewhere for her to go to. Pick out another  word from the bag. No peeking."


"'A motel'." 


"OK, great."


"Next: what happens to her in the motel? Go on, pick something out."


"'Murdered'."


"See how this is shaping up?"


"Yeah, this is OK. What's next?"


"Next, uh, next you pick out another thing from the bag and that tells us who murdered her."


Robert takes out another slip of paper from the bag. "It says 'A man dressed as a woman'."


"Wow! OK. Now we need to know the motive."


"I take another thing out of the bag?"


"Of course."


"OK." Robert takes out another slip from the bag. "It just says 'mother'."


"'Mother'?"


"Yeah."


"Well... you'll sort something out. I believe in ya."


"Hmm. Well, I'll try. Is that it?"


The friend looks at his sheet of paper. "Yep, that about wraps it up. You're good to go. I'll drop by next week and see how you're getting on."



Robert Bloch returns to his keyboard and begins typing...


ONE WEEK LATER...


The friend walks in and finds Robert at his desk smoking a cigar with a huge grin on his face.

 

"Hey, you look great!" the friend says.

 

"I FEEL great!" 

 

"Was it the system?"

 

"Yep. That thing is pure gold."

 

"This is great news! What'd I tell ya?" 

 

"I know. I know," Robert beams. "Though I figured I wouldn't go with that first lot of slips we pulled out of the bag."

 

"No?"

 

"No. I thought the man dressed as a woman stuff was a little weird. I mean I did type up a story but once I finished I decided to try the system pulling out a new set of slips from the bag."

 

"Why the heck not? Whatever puts that sunny smile on your face is OK by me. So don't leave me in suspense. What's the story?" 

 

 "OK, so I've got this heroine who's stolen some asparagus and she decides to go to an ice cream kiosk where she gets tickled by a boy dressed as Jesus. His motive is palmistry."


"What's it called?"


"Psycho."