The Blank Page

Facing the blank page may, as it turns out, be the easiest way to meditate for this writer. I wake up in a head filled with chatter. The dream I just had, what that reminds me of, a song I heard three days ago that I hated in high school that won’t stop playing in my head, a list of shit I have to get done immediately, the fact that I haven’t filed my taxes yet, conversations I never had that if I had said something better how completely awesome I’d be now, a swimming pool I want to build some day… it’s ridiculous and endless.

But sit down at a blank page with the intent to write, and my mind goes completely blank. Suddenly I’m the stupidest person on the block with nothing to say. It’s amazing.

However, as Anne Lamott advised, breathe. Just take it bird by bird.

Writing in cafes is easier for me. Writing at home is like asking to be struck with insanity. Did you finish your dishes? That order for tarot decks is staring at you from the tack board against the wall. You should take a walk. Maybe baking a cake would be easier than writing this blog post. No one reads you anyway. Just go take a nap and watch Judge Judy.

In cafes the noise and bustle act like white noise. My focus returns. Maybe it’s because I’m so vain. In a cafe there are other humans around witnessing my greatness. Ooohhh, look at her, she’s a writer… oooooohhhhooo…. special. Perhaps it’s because I’m too embarrassed to give up quickly while sitting near other humans in a cafe. I have to look like I’m doing something important! Maybe I just get lonely at home. Certainly I’m very easily distracted.

Having finished this blog post I’m likely to say to myself, well, self, you accomplished that. I guess you can go reward your self with a walk and a muffin and some Judge Judy. Except Judge Judy isn’t really a reward. More like long slow torture. Maybe I’ll skip the Judge Judy and just stay here and write. Make some headway on that goddamn novel. Chip away at my magical thinking and turn it into something more like an actual life.

This week I’m trying to figure out what Selah is doing while aboard ship. Out on the dank waters. Pining after Thegn. Filled with fear, hope, dread and determination. Time to go into the cave. Brave the dark. See what my subconscious has rattling around down there. Promise you’ll hold me later when I’m nuts and want my mommy.


About dakinigrl

writer, loopy artist, mom, armchair visionary, guerilla know-it-all, elitist twat, both a dog and cat person, owner of a leather sofa
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