Staring at that blank page

I friend of mine tweeted at me about writing about what I feel staring at a blank page. This was a response to me complaining over Twitter about how I don’t write because of various fears, one of which being the fear of the blank page.

These are the things that usually go through my mind while staring at a blank page.

What the fuck? All day you thought about this and that. You had a couple story ideas. You thought long and hard about you views on God, or the lack there of. You had a conversation with yourself about basically being the same person online as you are in real life, and how you don’t buy that a person can be different online than what they are in real life. An asshole is an asshole, no matter the medium, is the place where you landed on that, I think. And this was just today. Yesterday and the day before that and the day before that you had similar thoughts and conversations.

Yet, now, with the keyboard in front of you or the pen in your hand, nothing. Your mind is a calm body of water. Your body is stiff with rigor mortis, the stone, unthrown, grasped tightly in your hand.

You should meditate. But, as soon as you would sit down to do this, you’re brain would be back at the chatter again. Freed from the spotlight of that blank page.

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