Answer:
What has to be broken before you can use it?
You write on me and secrets I can keep in places never seen. I spin like a top. Though stiff as a board, I'm often described like a mop. What am I?
I stand in one place yet I fill a whole room. I can be filled with molten rock and come in every hue.
I can be written, I can be spoken, I can be exposed, I can be broken. What am I?
My days are numbered.
When is it bad luck to see a black cat?