A writer's best friend and worst enemy is the blank page. It is the harshest critic, or greatest savior. I stare at blank pages all day and try to chip away, revealing the worlds behind them, the children they birth, and the nations they destroy.
You want war, it's in the blank. You want peace, you need to start the war first. Without the war, it's just bland.
I am at war with you blank page, and every night, I summon my artillery, and hope to the omniscients that I will destroy your nothingness. I'll burn your village, trade your patrons, and cook every animal in order to make you break, and once you've submitted to me, I'll place you in front of the world, and burn you at the stake so that someone on some television network can give me a shiny gold trophy, which I will then use to pummel the brains out the host.
Ratings, that's what I'll give them, and they will love me for it, and I'll have you to thank blank page. Thank you for the headaches, the blood, and the new uses for an eggbeater. The much, much more painful uses.
I love you blank page. We shall rest now. I'll destroy you in the morning.
No comments:
Post a Comment