It happens more frequently than I probably think (or for that matter, care to admit), but the blank page scares the living daylights out of me (why are all daylights ‘living’? Are there dead daylights?). Having something in my head that I think is so prolific and profound to write about that just gets stuck right there, in my head, trapped.
And the blank page mocks.
The blinking cursor taunting me, daring me to write something, anything, just to fill the space. It silently laughs at me, I know it does. (ok, maybe I’m a bit crazy, but… seriously, listen next time, you can hear it, with every blink, that cacophony of cackling… or.. not.. but, whatever). Continue reading Blank page