Optical Allusionist

I love to write. It's more than what I do. It's who I am. The need to write is completely natural for me. But for times like this, I hate it. It feels intrusive. I'm stumped! I have plenty of ideas, but the moment I grab onto the tail of one, it flies off without a "by your leave"

I would love to write a story about Cinderella and what happens after her "happily ever after night", and so I did the best and the worst thing: I went to Yahoo! Answers, and asked people what they thought would happen. I got AWESOME answers, a lot of "Well, the story says she lived happily ever after", and a few stories that I think reflected the lives of the answerer (The prince thought Cindy cheated, they went on Maury, found out the baby wasn't his, the prince got a conga line going while Cindy bawled her head off in the back room) I got some awesome ideas though. (Due to her harsh upbringing and use of unsafe cleaning supplies, Cinderella is unable to conceive a child.) Or -- talking about having twins-- (an heir and a spare) or... (after the step-sisters come in to help with Cindy's attempted suicide, they start telling lies about CIndy, and the prince gets wicked mad at them and signs them up for E-Harmony, where they find equally ugly and evil brothers to marry) but the best I thought was (One of the first things that happened is that no person EVER called the new princess Cinderella again! Her name's not Cindy, it's Ella) but to add spice, I'd call her Elsa.

So, that was my poke in the dark tonight. Wow.