To The Blank Page

Said by Californication’s Hank Moody (David Duchovny) to fellow dinner guest Richard Bates (Jason Beghe) over a glass of Whiskey. A beautiful toast from the bad boy writer and a perfect inspiration for a writer’s blog. To The Blank Page is a blog and dedication to the life of the writer. To us, the blank page is more than just a sheet of paper curled into the type writer, or a flashing pipe in a word document; it’s an opportunity, a new adventure, continued passion, excitement, terror, anxiety, and above all home. Staring at a blank page is like staring at a made bed. It’s inviting, it teases, and when you finally settle into it, it’s comfortable. No matter what kind of writer you are, there’s a blank page out there waiting for you.

As a child I always imagined there was a story of such epic beauty that it would describe my very soul; that it would finally show me– through the misadventures and relationships that its characters must endure, and through the tribulations and danger they must navigate– exactly who I am. It would be a story of such intimacy, that to write it would be to put my very essence on paper, and to read would be to know exactly who I am; as a writer and a human being. I imagine that God has placed such a story within my heart, and buried it deep within my mind; with such deft skill that to unleash it I must first prepare myself. You see, not every writer can endure the demands such a story would make of them. Not every writer could survive it and remain writing. While the work of a writer is immortal, their spirit is very much vulnerable. If you ask a writer to betray that spirit, it can easily shatter; it could render the writer a eunuch.

As a teen I always imagined that my writing would make me somebody. As I grew older, I became convinced that wasn’t the case. I took up programming. I became complacent, and I let the writer within me wither. No longer painting imagines with verbs and adjectives, I was reduced to a menagerie of semi-colons and data types. The writer within me fought against conformity, he urged me to return to the words and worlds only I could imagine. Late at night I could hear him whispering into my ear. I could imagine him walking up to the many programming books in my library and, like a poltergeist, piss upon their spines. He raged, and every so often when the drink overtook me, I raged too. I raged from the bitterness of knowing I could never let that part of me free. Programming had to become my passion because programming was the only thing that could make a living for me. But I was wrong.

As an adult I’ve suffered anxieties. I’ve suffered darkness; depression, sadness, dread, any emotion you can imagine that would break the soul. Over the months that I’ve suffered I’ve learned one thing: I am a writer. As a writer I must fulfill my destiny. I must work each and every day to write. I must work hard to extricate the words from my mind and place them in such a fashion that will intrigue and amuse. Most importantly, I must prepare. God has placed me on this earth and filled me with something powerful. I must build my strength so that one day I can wield the gift He has given me with finesse, so that I can prove to the world and to my self I am a writer. This blog is a means to that end. As often as it strikes me, this blog will purvey the outlet to my inspiration.

So like Hank Moody I am taking this opportunity to toast, to the blank page. May it bring me much joy, much opportunity, and much happiness. And may it fill my readers with satisfaction and curiosity, and all the other emotions that tickle our fancy and keep us living just another day longer.