All Over Again
The writer was in a bind. He knew the moment he pulled the day’s prompt. Deja vu – was any topic more trodden-into-the-ground? Ideas for stories came to him, but each was dismissed; even if he couldn’t actually remember seeing it before, a nagging voice told him it’d been done.
Wasn’t that a kind of...?
If his worry was originality, this wasn’t any better than his other ideas. But maybe the self-awareness would be enough to excuse it?
But resorting to the old saw of self-reference, while complaining about unoriginality?
Back to the drawing board.