I’ve done a lot of staring lately, at the blank page.
When I stare at a blank page, I’m not filling it with words and ideas and phrases and flourishes in my mind.
Rather, I’m filling my own mind with doubts and anxieties and second-guesses.
I’m thinking about how inadequate I am, how much better I could and should be as a writer, creator, and human. How this page shouldn’t be blank — it should be filled with words. Smart words. Good words. Well-written words.
A blank page is often an indictment of myself. An excuse to beat myself up and tell myself I’m not good enough, smart enough, dedicated enough. Is this what it is for you?
Maybe we need to re-envision the blank page as a place of opportunity and excitement. Where possibility reigns and we can let go of the self-criticism and harsh judgment.
Maybe we need to forgive ourselves for being imperfect and unable to live up to our own impossible standards.
Maybe we need to get out of our own heads, and get those words out onto the page instead.
Words & warmth,
Sarah