I am not sure why but the white sheet in front of me seemed more welcoming to me today. It didn’t seem threatening or frightening. In fact it seemed more inviting than before. Like a pool of cool clear water formed at the base of a waterfall, that you encounter after a steep hike through the woods. I know of a pool like that which I can’t wait to visit. We would organise rappelling over this fall. It was amazing. One time I felt like I would die under the heavy flow of the water. But it was all in my head. I just wanted to slow down time.
Time unfortunately doesn’t slow down for anyone. It doesn’t even increase its pace. 52 weeks go by at the same pace. What is the significance of a year, anyway, in the grand scheme of things. But a year can be enough to turn things around. A year, that is 52 weeks can be, 366 days – this year can be quite meaningfully utilised for the better. Just like this plain sheet, glowing peacefully in the dark.
I was horrible at art. I could never draw or paint. So I have always wondered about the process that artists follow. Do they sketch before? Do they have drafts like us writers? We have the delete button, what do they have? Do they paint over their blemishes or let the imperfections sit as is and make them a part of their final outcome? Folks who paint are a gifted lot, indeed. I could never paint, though I attempted once. But alas! It was a disaster.
But a blank slate seems inviting. A chance to fill it up with anything you wish. With all your dreams, desires and even fantasies about the life you dream of. That is what a blank page resembles. It could turn into a story, it could be a screenplay which could be a comedy or a tragedy. Who knows, I may write that movie script after all this year. That is the beauty of a clean white page.
The fear of spoiling the page, however, lingers on. The fear leads to procrastination. What if the story is a dud. What if the writing is sloppy. Worse, what if it is verbose. A blank page left blank will only turn slightly yellow, but it will remain blank. Better that way?
I don’t think so. I think scribbling something on it is better than letting it yellow. It is not a piece of papyrus, just plain old paper. And if it is digital then it is even easier to replace. Do artists tear up canvases? I don’t think they do. They are expensive, but so is art. And that’s why every page matters, crafting your words matters, thinking before writing matters. Not being perfect but putting in the effort matters. Just doing it matters.