Vanquishing the blank

There is nothing that terrifies me more than a blank page.  It is confrontational in its emptiness.  ‘What am I to be?’ it asks, fixing me with a (blank) stare.  ‘Am I a drawing, a poem, a story, a doodle?  Once you make your mark there’s no going back.  Are you worthy of destroying the stark beauty of my emptiness?’  Too often I am defeated.  Rendered inactive for fear of doing it (whatever it may be) ‘wrong’.  My drawers are full of sketchbooks without pictures, notebooks without words; creaseless spines and sterile leaves.  Better to do nothing than something that is no good I tell myself.  But that is not true and I don’t really believe it.  So I take a proverbial deep breath and begin…

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