I have often heard the phrase, “write what you know” and currently, I know blank white pages, so here is an exaggerated version of someone’s attempt to write something. Happy Reading …
I am staring into the abyss that is every writer’s worst nightmare… The blank white page.
Whether it’s actual paper or the representation of one on a computer screen, the blank white page will mock you, taunt you as the words fail to materialize in your mind and through your fingertips.
I know of many writers who have died this way, refusing to move until that page has some little black markings on it; but the words never came for them. They simply wasted away, not eating, not drinking, not showering, just rotting away until they were skeletons, festering amongst dust and rodent droppings. Scratch marks on their desks where they dug out their frustration. The stench of decay and failure occupying the stale air.
I know I should move away, avoid that fate, but I can’t. I am immovable; stuck here until I overcome that blank white page. I can’t let it win. It’s not writer’s block… I don’t believe in it. The words are in me, they are just intimidated, refusing to come out, to put the blank white page in its place; refusing to master the white demon before me. I manage to look away sometimes but I can feel it watching me, drawing me back into its game. The desperation for words overtakes me; I can feel it rising up, making me more aggravated. I start shaking my legs, trying to release this bad energy from my body without lashing out at the blank white page; because the minute I show it my frustrations, I will lose.
I think of George Orwell, when he described the act of writing “like a long bout of some painful illness”. I wonder how he overcame it; how he tamed the blank white page before him? He was obviously a better writer than me. Maybe I’m not talented enough to overcome it? That only the real writers can push through and cover that blank white page with their dribble. That’s it! The blank white page is a test. If you don’t fill it then you are not a writer. Hard luck, find another hobby, don’t give up the day job, thank you and goodnight.
That thought of never writing again scares me to the soul though, tears my heart apart. I must force a positive attitude upon myself. I will ruin this blank white page. It will not defeat me!
I continue the struggle to find the story within me when I finally get my eureka moment. I finally start writing. Ferociously putting my mark on that page; it is no longer blank; no longer pure virginal white. My words start to cover that page, telling it exactly what I think about it. How dare that page mock me! Who does that page think he is? I am writer, hear me roar!