As a writer, it strikes fear into my heart. Looking at that blank page is somewhat scary and exciting at the same time. There is nothing but possibility there - and possibility can be a good thing or a bad thing. Whatever I am writing - a poem, a blog, an essay, a short story - exists only in my imagination. Once the pen begins scratching on the paper, everything changes (yes, I still like to write with a pen and paper sometimes...it feels more authentic) and the story takes on life and is there for the world to see and find someday. Sure, you can rip out the page, crumple it up, and try and destroy it, but there is always something that remains of what was written. Even if there is no physical remnant, what you wrote stays with you.
For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be a writer. Over the years, what I've wanted to write has changed some, but the desire to be a writer has never left. I know the chances are one in a million that I will be published, and probably even smaller that I would gain any notoriety as a writer, but I can't shake the desire to keep on trying.
I have stories to tell and poems to write; I have characters that have lived in my head since I was in middle school that are desperate to have their story told; I have bits and pieces of dialogue and setting that flow through my mind on a regular basis. I just have lacked the discipline to set aside the time to write. And, I'm not sure where that will come from even now, but this blog is the first step in rekindling my passion for writing. I am writing fiction, as well, but it's not ready for the public yet.
My blank page is slowly filling up and it's only seven days into 2011. I have a lot of goals and ambitions for this year and for my life. It feels like I spent part of last year just existing and now I'm ready to live and achieve and dream again!
What are you going to write on your blank page this year?
I am reading.
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