Blank pages

6:27 a.m. Sunday morning.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t need to skip the first page of my notebook before beginning to write. Usually, I feel intense pressure – self-imposed, of course – to write perfection as soon as the new notebook is opened. The blank page before me becons the perfect expression, the well-worded sentence, the cleverest wordplay. Years ago, I decided that the best way for me to avoid writer’s block in front of the first page of a notebook (especially given that I’m the only one who reads its content) was simply to skip it and move on to the next. This way, if ever I do fall upon the perfect sentence, I have a choice spot for it.

But this morning, awakened with a smile at 5:15 a.m., I got up to write about the character I played  in my dream. I filled many pages of my notebook until I had none left. I had to choose a new notebook, which I opened to the first page to continue writing, without hesitation.

 

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