This is the scariest thing in a writer’s life. A blank page.
Or is that just me?
I have many a beautiful notebook that remains in pristine state, because I’m too scared to make a mark on a page. I’m much better with exercise books, where tearing out a page because what’s on it is rubbish is a much more realistic prospect.
Who am I kidding. I don t throw out any pages! There may be a gem there that may not show its brilliance for years, yet while I have the notebook, the possibility is there.
Today, I’m beginning a new project and have a new exercise book. And I’ve passed the blank page stage and have started scribbling. The story that emerges may be wildly different to the one that begins here, but at least it’s begun.
That’s the scary bit done, Right?