The Blank Page

Ah the white page. The blank, endless canvas. You taunt us; and toy with us. In our heads thousands of possibilities swirl, but you force us to choose one. Just one. There are a million ways this scene could go. Which one is the best one? Should he say this, or that? Move this way, or that? Every little word changes it ever so slightly. Like a butterfly, who flaps its wings to cause a hurricane in China. Or gets stepped on in the past to upset the future. The blank page is like a cloud of butterflies on which we must carefully step on. One line, one movement, one word out of place and the story falls apart ever so slightly. Like taking a block from Jenga. We carefully ease words onto the paper, seeing whether they want to stay there. But that's the problem with the blank page. What should go where? Writers are word smiths, toying with them. Putting them together to make a whole far greater than the individuals. But what if it's the wrong words? History proves that the wrong word, at the wrong time, in the wrong place, can cause the deaths of those rivaled by a hurricane. A writer's job isn't easy. In fact it's incredibly hard. Using only words we must create fictional worlds, fictional stories that make you laugh. That make you cry. Turning the same words you find on any street corner and turning them into masterpieces. The blank page continues to mock, daring writers to write the words. To see what can happen. The blank page is the scariest thing to the writer, but oh so satisfying when filled.