“The blank page is yours. Cast aside worries over art and criticism. Imagine a land without rules. Imagine that nobody has ever told you that you cannot or should not do this thing. Those people were wrong.” — Chuck Wendig
You know what’s the one thing I find to be equally fascinating and terrifying?
A blank page.
It’s the most terrifying thing… because that page doesn’t care who you are or what you wrote before sitting down at the desk, doesn’t care how many people are waiting to read your words… it just stays empty until you write something.
It’s also a reminder that there’s always room for a fresh start. You can create and invent. You’re free. Maybe sometimes I see poetry when there’s nothing there, but to me a blank page always means that I get to try to achieve more. I can try to be better, and I can simply forget everything I wrote before. Because nothing else really matters.
There are no rules. There are no “others.”
It’s just you and the blank page. And the possibilities are endless; you’re the only one who can fill a blank page with the words you want. Arrange them how you want or feel. It’s your blank page, your canvas, your world. And it’s never going to write itself.
You’re the only one who can write your stories into existence, and, God, how great it feels to know that.