an open letter to the enigmatic writer's bane known simply as the "blank page,"
apologies for dispensing with the normal pleasantries, but i do not want to waste time with you any longer. i have spent too much time skirting you, avoiding you, and hiding from you to allow myself to beat around the bush again.
at first, i believed that you really wanted me to succeed, but couldn't come to my aid due to "busyness" or various extraneous circumstances. i would sit with you, hoping to work harmoniously with you to create story, but your imposing figure and stoic stare usually scared me away. i would tell myself: "he can't be prevailed upon to help; he's much too busy" or "he'll be there when I get back; no need to start now" or, as things worsened, "I must not be important enough for him; he's got his hands full with the likes of Stephanie Meyer."
oh, how i deceived myself in the service of my own fear! and what are you, anyway? you do not speak, you do not actively make moves to destroy me, but i've seen through your ruse. that little smirk that spreads over your face when i walk away and you think i'm not looking; oh, yes, i've seen it.
surely you know of the story that has haunted me since childhood. a story that has never been written, only skirted; the story that i must write. for as long as i can remember, i've sought it; i've enjoyed other stories just because they catch a bit of this other.
but YOU have kept it from me. i've realized that you have a vested interest in keeping me from completing it. you've sent me off into dead ends, deploying every weapon at your disposal: "brain fog," deep distraction, gnawing self-doubt, jittery guilt, even the great and terrible Writer's Block isn't below serving your ends.
what have i ever done to you, blank page? ah, but as i ask that question, i answer myself: if my story is ever completed, it will surely destroy you. are you as afraid of me as i am of you? but, fear not, blank page, for as you are destroyed, something better will be born in your place. the power of a single story dwarfs you, and perhaps you know it.
i realize that you will not willingly engage with me in a peace treaty as long as the "story" haunts me. very well; then, as long as the "story" haunts me, i will not rest until i complete it and destroy you. don't act surprised; you knew i couldn't accept your vision of the world, blank page. for you would have us all cowering before you, imprisoned in ourselves, unable to look up and see the beautiful bigness of our created universe. but story, true story, always drives us to look up.
blank page, consider this the end of our toxic relationship... and the beginning of a better quest.
i sign this most sincerely and definitively,
maggie
