I typically love a blank page. Always have. As a kid, I’d see a blank piece of paper and become giddy. My imagination would begin percolating, and suddenly my hands ached for a pencil. I drew a lot growing up. Cartoons, mostly. Favorite Disney characters. Imaginary pets I wish I had. My family. Sketchbooks and colored pencils were my two favorite tools. And that’s all I needed to start creating. Maybe it’s because there was no pressure to create. No pressure to produce on command. If I messed up, I simply crumpled the page and started afresh.
Today, creating isn’t always that simple. The blank page continues to delight me; however, there are those definite days when I stare and stare at white emptiness and come up with–nothing. That’s when the panic sets in. The pressure begins. And the mind goes —– . Which is exactly what sparked today’s blog post. An English teacher in high school once told me if you can’t think of anything to say, just put pen to paper and write. Write about how you don’t want to write. Write about what color the desk is. What you’d rather be doing. What you’re hungry for. Etc. And soon, slowly, you’ll find yourself creating. Prose and poems and manuscripts have sprung from those exercises. And apparently, blog posts.
Put pen to paper and write. In this case, fingers to keyboard. Suddenly, the blank page has disappeared, and I’m back into the swing of things.