The Worst Block of my Neighborhood

The blank page is a cliff. It stands there taunting and teasing the writer. Only by getting close to it can one overcome it, but there always runs the risk of going too far and not returning. Like Don Quixote we face each and every one hoping to overcome the void once and for all and conquering the blank page. To reach the plateau of perfection is every lemming writer’s goal, but there is no plateau without the cliffs and there is no beginning without the blank page. They must be conquered and that can only be done through confrontation.

I still here now waging a fresh battle with the blank page monster; the windmill I joust daily. Most days the aerogenerator wins and my only recourse is the delete key. This only returns me to the blank page with no scars or signs of the struggle I just lost. Today I insist upon a victory even if the blankness is the subject I use to fill the void. The barren blanched landscape will run with the dark stains of letters. I will fill the space with words regardless of their meaning or lack there of. The blankness shall not win again.

I do realize there is a subtle victory for the void if I fill it with text chronicling how it defeats me. It immortalizes this flaw in my character and accents the power of the blank page over me, but so be it. A small victory is still a victory. I only hope this beats the block.