The Blank Page

THE BLANK PAGE - A Short Story/Observance


Every writer has one of those days/nights/times when the thoughts and ideas are there with you but nothing seems to mesh/fit/make any damned sense. You can write and then delete/erase/revise everything you’ve penned/inked/composed. We all know it’s expected/upsetting/nerve-wracking, but that’s why we are writers/authors/poets. You see, no matter what we are up against, we will always love/enjoy/live for it.

Until the second thoughts/regrets/doubts arrive when it actually happens…

~ ~ ~

It’s late in the evening and there’s a blank page on the computer screen in front of me. While deciding upon a suitable opening, I realize I’m smiling to myself. I light a fragrant candle, take a deep breath and lean back on my computer chair.

{Ha! You don’t scare me one bit. I already have a storyline so watch out! Now, where are my notes?}

I page through my steno books and the countless pads of papers on the computer desk and eventually discover they are nowhere to be found.

{Hmmm, maybe all my ideas are on the computer in one of my saved folders. Well, never mind. All my thoughts are also stored in my brain. All this searching would have been so much simpler if one of these days I just straightened up this desk. Come to think of it, there’s no time like the present.}

I pick up a stack of unopened mail resting next to my inboxes and begin leafing through them. There is an apparent look of shock on my face when I come across a jury duty notice with a postmark of January 13…today’s date is June 23rd.

{I could have sworn I took care of this. Oops…sworn…definitely a bad choice of words.}

Guiltily, I drop the notice on top of the remaining correspondence only to pick it up again and toy with the strategy of pretending I never received it and slipping it in the
paper shredder. The liability is even stronger as I toss the notice onto the pile of envelopes and return my attention to the empty computer screen.

{Okay, now concentrate! You know very well you’re just stalling. You have a romantic love scene in the fifth chapter. Now start writing.}

When I glance at the computer’s clock, I notice the time reads 11:36 P.M., so I start to type my ideas at a furious rate. At least the ones I remembered. Soon I stop to read over what I’ve just written.

{I know it’s only a start but the third line makes no sense at all.}

I highlight the line and hit delete. The remainder is not too bad. Sure, it needs to be revised but I’m fairly sure I can make it work.

{The fifth line is totally irrelevant but it’s really good. I like it!}

Again I highlight the line, hit edit, then cut and move the line to my folder GOOD LINES and paste it along the many other lines that have shown promise. Save has been hit and I move back to the original page with the remaining seven lines. When I reread the lines, I make an important decision.

{No writer or surgeon is good enough to save this. It stinks. Forget it and start over.}

Now the clock reads 12:04 A.M.

{No problem, it’s still early and now I know where I’m going.}

I attempt to imagine the hero and heroine complete with dialogue and reactions in my mind and resume typing. The story line is finally coming fast to me so I continue,
knowing in the recesses of my mind I can correct any grammatical or spelling errors later. An hour later, I check what I’ve typed and end up wincing.

{Whoa! What was I thinking? I pictured the entire scene differently. What I typed is morally and spiritually wrong, not to mention physically impossible.}

I sit back to reread the computer screen; several of the key movements sorely need major revisions. Prior to making any corrections, I quietly laugh. Yet again, I
highlight certain lines, hit edit and copy and move the almost-erotica-but-not-quite to the TEST folder. I return to what I’ve just written and make some suitable modifications. At this point, I am much in need of standing and stretching so I walk to the freezer relishing a bowl of my Cherry Garcia ice cream.

{IT’S GONE! Damned that individual to ice cream hell!}

Annoyed, I return to the computer, sit down and give the newly written scene its final review. It’s presently 1:47 A.M., and yet again my eyes leave the computer screen and drift over to the load of mail laying innocently on my desk…that mound of unopened envelopes with the jury summons sitting on the very top. I eye the summons and begin to imagine the worst-case scenario.

{Isn’t this what they consider contempt of court? Could I be thrown in jail for accidentally ignoring those notices? Wait a minute, what is that revolting smell?}

Apparently my candle is presently at the stage where the liquid wax is at its strongest and I come to the decision the fragrance is far from soothing. The idea my ice cream has found its place in someone else’s tummy begins to eat into my psyche and I impatiently stand, grab the smoking candle and return to the freezer.

Now that the missing Ben & Jerry’s has been replaced with frozen cookie dough and the candle is safely in the sink underwater, I return to the computer and the keyboard.

Realizing my mind is currently being diverted in too many directions; I lick the chocolate chip residue from my fingers, slip on my earphones, and hope some classical music will assist me in finishing that elusive love scene I have to write. I rapidly scan what I have written, do the necessary corrections and voila! The story is revised. As a treat for completing what I originally set out to do, I prop up my head, close my eyes and finish listening to Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. As the music ends, I open my eyes and notice the time is edging close to 3:00 A.M. Just as I’m ready to hit the save button, I take a final moment to reread the entire story. Perhaps it was the hour, the distractions, the sudden apathy, or maybe it’s the kind of writer’s block that allows you to write, but not as well as you know you can. Suddenly this romantic love scene reads marginal and your hero is acting like a superficial adolescent and the heroine comes across like a high school tramp. I hit the close button and a message pops up asking me if I want to save the changes I’ve made to the document. I click NO and yawn as I power the computer off.

Tomorrow I’ll face another blank page and believe me, I will get it right…that is, after I figure out how to legally handle that jury summons.

{Then again, depending on the outcome, I should have a pretty good story…}