Every Sunday I wake up brainstorming ideas to contribute at the Scroll writers’ meeting. My brain is so chock-full of amazing headlines that I get an aching headache for the rest of the day. At Sunday sit-down, my veins are filled with adrenaline as I envision pitching my ideas for the Buzz section. However, when I finally arrive at the Kendall, my mind goes blank and all the ideas escape. I scramble to come up with a viable article. Suddenly, one springs to mind. Why not write about the outdoor rink? Alas, that article has already been written. I come up with another idea: why not write yet another “What your [blank] says about you” article? Too boring. Finally, a brilliant piece materializes in my mind. Why not write about the pipe construction in the quad behind the Main School Building? The idea was an immediate hit but for News… not Buzz. The next day I immediately begin to brainstorm and plan out my interviews. I email the Student Life Office (SLO) asking for an interview and patiently await their reply. The clock ticks by and still no ding has notified me of their response. Anxiously, I worry over the looming disaster. With no interview, how will I ever find out the mystery of the pipe? The next day I finally succumb to my nerves and send a second email, CC’ing editors on the Scroll. To my horror, the SLO still has not responded. Frantically, I email the Scroll staff for advice. Who should I interview? I quickly learn that the SLO only allows interviews during Thursday community time, derailing any hope of finishing my article early. Leading up to my interview, I write a few questions and brainstorm, but really putz around, bored and unable to continue my diligent Scroll work. Finally, the day of my interview I sit before Mr. Bicknell and ask what the pipe is for. As I diligently listen to his answers, I learn the pipe is for heating—a revelation that will surely shock all my future readers. Even before the interview finishes, I already begin writing the first paragraph in my head. I run back to my dorm, and zip open my backpack. As I open the computer I set my fingers on the keyboard, poised to type, when suddenly, I forget what to say. Staring at the blinking cursor on my screen I cannot for the life of me come up with a first sentence. Slowly I chug away in my mind, but in the end I decide to sleep on it. And then sleep on it the next day, and then the next. Suddenly it’s 11:30 p.m on Sunday night, my article is due in twenty-nine minutes, and I still haven’t written anything. I madly type away any ideas that pass by my mind, cobbling together a semi coherent stream of consciousness about some heating pipe. Finally, right before the clock strikes midnight, I wrap up the first draft of my masterpiece. In only a few weeks time, and a flurry of editing, I will have my own exciting article in the Scroll.