Do you ever have no idea what to write? You squeeze the grape, but it’s really a raisin. No drop of inspirational juice left. You stare at a blank page and wonder, “Is this all that’s left? Have I run dry?”
How depressing. You peaked too early. Didn’t get your face on a postage stamp or win a prize for your writing (unless you already have [I have not]). The white page’s stare unnerves you.
It isn’t menacing. It’s not a glare. It just stares. Blank. Hopeful. Depressed. It’s nothing. It remains white.
There’s a glimmer of hope…maybe. If you squint, you can see the blank page as something different, something new. But when you open your eyes fully, the magic vanishes. The real returns. It’s just a blank page.
So write with your eyes closed [spelling be damned]. Picture a world where you control every outcome, every scenario, and every line. Dialogue, plot, voice, structure. Those are just words. You know and can see the images before you. Put them on the page. Paint a picture.
It all sounds so good, so convincing; however, my bed beckons. Video games grumble and vie for affection. Time flits away on fairy wings. Yet if I can just capture a sprinkling of the dust left in it’s wake, that might be enough to create a little magic of my own.