Is there anything more depressing than a sheet of blank paper (or a page of white screen)?
This whiteness, so white it resembles a polarbear eating vanilla ice-cream in a snow storm in Antartica (and I didn’t really make that up) is more depressing, because it means that no one has taken advantage of its blankness to write an amazing story.
Me, in fact. This stream-of-conciousness thing? Weird. What am I supposed to write about? So I chose blank paper, and how can you enlarge on that?
Maybe blank paper should be inspirational. Instead of a reminder of how little you’ve done, it could be a reminder of how much you can do. (At the moment, for me, it’s not, but it could be. One day.)
Now what do I say? I’m supposed to say whatever’s in my head. Well, all that’s there is I CAN THINK OF NOTHING TO SAY.
One day, when I practised at this, they might be interesting. For now I’m excited about my 30 seconds to go.
I’m looking at my blank screen, and trying to think “Oh! How much wonderful things can I write here!”