The Blank Page

The blank page. Nothing there but the possibility of everything. Shoot, I've been starring at this blank screen for way too long, and it's just a stupid blog post. Trying to physically write stuff on paper with a pen when you don't know where to start feels is a scary proposition in comparison. A void of nothing, only there to soak up ink. Where do I start, where do I go? So many choices that sprawl out in many directions, and without a map to figure out where each path leads. What if I take a wrong turn, will I have to turn back and start again? Even thinking about the task at hand has a paralyzing effect.

I feel like I'm out of shape, it's been a good while since I've sat down in a random location and started scribbling whatever came to mind. When I used to write a lot it would be for at least an hour a day, every day. Words came much more freely then. Now I'm struggling to type out this stupid blog post that's going nowhere. It's those first steps more than anything else, you know that it's going to take a while to get wherever you're going. Man, do I really want to put myself through all that? It's going to be a lot of words, a lot of pages to fill. A lot of scratched out words and torn out pages, lots of trial and error. That doesn't sound fun.

It's not like I don't have any ideas, that's the easy part. All this time not writing stuff was time I was spending thinking of things to write about. Vague ideas, rough ideas of events, moods, colors or the lack of, and hazy outlines of human bodies that only bear a slight resemblance to what might eventually become characters who speak words. It's just the sitting down and actually doing it that's difficult. Hopefully it'll get easier once that first page is done. And then the second, and so on. A step at a time, right? Maybe it won't be as awful as this stupid blog post. I apologize if you actually read through this. Ideas for blog entries are easy to come by, actually sitting down and writing said idea isn't.