Flounders; Hands; Storyteller

Strange Title? Yeah, I know. These were three words i got at an exercise conducted by the poetry circle at BC. Had to come up with a Poem on the Spot. Let me know what you think.

The keys tapped fast on the ribbon,
the hands seemingly familiar,
no flounders on the word
and yet, the storyteller stopped.
Silence, as the typewriter rested.

As the chapter closed,
trouble began to brew,
Upstairs he ran, to publishers' galore,
but yet, none to grab his letters.

The words lie still, in his mind alone,
and on no other paper, it ever will.