Where do we come from…

You might have read ‘Why I don’t dread the blank page’ and think: “Yeah, nice… won’t work for me, though!”

That could very much be true. Or not.

I don’t think I am a genius or the most self-assured, confident writer around. Quite the contrary, I am as riddled by impostor syndrome and doubts as the next writer. If I can overcome the blank page, then you can muster the courage, too.

We all start from the same point, with varying circumstances. We need to express something, with words preferably to unarticulated screams (and I did them too, in the past, no worries).

Sometimes we don’t know how, sometimes we are afraid of what we are going to write. Sometimes we are afraid that others won’t like it. But all this baggage we can leave behind for the journey ahead.

… and where do we start?

I’d say at the origin — ourselves. Every time you sit before a blank page and feel fear rising and cannot put words on it, it is time to take a deep breath and look inwards. Because it is not the blank page stopping you, it is not anything from outside that wipes your creativity away. It is your fear of what might become, of what might happen. Nothing less, nothing more.

We might as well start there, yes?

The worst already happened

Take a deep breath — the worst thing that could have happened just did. Fear paralyzed you and couldn’t create. Breathe, brush that aside, it is in the past, it can’t hurt you anymore.

You need to allow yourself to be ok with your just experienced failure. Because being ok with failing is maybe the most important step on your journey to create.

Without failing, there is no improvement. And we want to improve. So we want to fail. As we want to fail, there is no reason at all to be afraid of. We just try to fail better every time. The product of failing better will be good enough at some point.

Some healthy self-talk

Of course, we all care about how our creations will be perceived. We would write a journal, diary, something nobody but us ever sees, otherwise. But for the sake of creating — just pretend we are telling whatever it is just to ourselves. The first draft, or some call it draft zero, is always you telling yourself the story/article/memory. You don’t need to trust me on that — I loaned that from brilliant authors (Google will tell you whom I mean).

This view of a first draft is a good thing to loan, because it is a fundamental truth that totally robs all basis from your fear like a burglar in the night.

While your fear is now whimpering in a free fall into the void, be yourself a friend and start talking to you, won’t you? Start writing, for yourself first, because words create reality. Seeing them on the page will change your perception of them.

But Morris, my words are rubbish! Rubbish, you hear?!

That may be so, and I swear — all of my writing starts as rubbish for sure, but why does it matter? You are the only one who sees them right now.

Always keep in mind that you allow yourself to fail because it is the only way to improve. Neither DaVinci nor Mozart nor Dostojewski were perfect on their first try. Even a genius has to practise — so why wouldn’t you — and there are always sketches or scribbles or sometimes complete novels well hidden from public view. Everything you create is also practise, and to practise means failing better every time — until you succeed in your attempts more often than not. People don’t magically see the training preceding the performance, unless someone films it for a documentary.

So whatever you put on that page, know it is just your first version, and you can edit it as much as you like or need.

But how do I start?

You might ask me now how you should start — but why ain’t you asking yourself that on the blank page before you?

We already stated that we can only succeed by failing better, so start right away with failing to write what you had as a glorified vision in your head, and write instead about how you want to write it.

You read this article this far, you might have realised by now that we are talking about changing the way we think about writing. Words create reality — put your train of thoughts, that will lead to this opening line, on the page! In this you can experiment, you can clarify your vision for yourself, and before you know it, the first version of this opening line — or even multiple first versions — will appear on the page. By talking to yourself on the page, answering the questions you would ask an experienced writer, you tricked yourself into writing. Success!

But that’s not what I want, I want to write great things!

Oh, I want that, too. No doubt about that. But it rarely works with a snap of the fingers.

Don’t force creativity, don’t force perfection — let it grow. Bob Ross had it absolutely right, but not just for painting, but also writing — we have ‘happy little accidents’, on the page, and shape them into something marvellous in the process. Unlike a sculptor, we don’t have a block of marble and chip away everything that isn’t the Veiled Christ. We have to build our block of marble first, by making big piles of words and mashing them together as we think is best. If a sculptor chips away too much, he has ruined his work. Here comes our secret superpower — we can chip it down to nothing and rebuild it completely if need be. We have words, and they are like superglue and modelling clay in one!

What if I still don’t know how to write what I want to write?

You wrapped your head around the following already:

• You write for your eyes only for starters

• You cannot fail — because every so-called failure is a step forward on your journey to improve as a writer

• You need to practise writing — a process that never stops, even when you succeed

• You are in constant dialogue with yourself — and most of the answers are in you already

• You already have superpowers to create and destroy and recreate your writing however you wish. It is a miracle your eyes don’t glow and there are no sparks flying from your fingertips. The fate of worlds, universes, characters is in your almighty hand.

Now wrap your mind around this:

• You must let yourself grow by letting go of your expectations.

You expect from yourself a grasp of language equal to that of your favourite authors. Don’t. You will get there in time, but you can’t be there yet. You have to write. Reading is essential, but not enough, because writing changes you, as it has changed them.

Words create realities. Words influence minds. As reading influences a reader, using the tool of language influences the writer. You get more proficient, more at ease with using it. At some point, you might want to try new things, experiment a bit. Successful experiments will change how you proceed — unsuccessful ones will lead you back to proven ways of doing things.

Know that you can only improve by making experiences. All of them add to your journey — which only stops if you put down the pen the last time, and never write again.

What now?

That’s easy, two steps. First, relax. There is nothing to fear but fear itself, and fear fell into the void, remember? Scroll up if you don’t. Watch it fall again. Enjoy gleefully as its whimpers slowly cease, swallowd by the void.

Second, take up your preferred writing device, and start with asking yourself a question on the page. Then answer yourself on the page.

Me, asking:
What would be good opening line, Morris?
Me, answering:
I don’t know… what are opening lines you thought to be great? Are you into the mysterious ones, or the descriptive ones? Like “Nobody knew why the moon sped off into the sun one day.” or rather “There was utter silence while the dust slowly settled around the fallen ogre.” ?

There, you wrote. The blank page is gone, and now you can continue to write and let it evolve, shape it into whatever you’d like to read. You can chip away what doesn’t need to be there, and leave only the opening line of your choice standing.

In time, you might internalise this dialogue, and start with the answers on the page, forming your writing in that magical way we see in movies, where people start with an opening line as if it was nothing. HA!
Most important — don’t worry about a title yet. Just don’t.

If my thoughts on the matter raised more questions than they gave answers — reach out to me!

We are all together on this journey of writing. I don’t compete with anyone. I will always help if I can.