I grab my journal and begin to scribble, making sure my pen has enough ink for my project today. I search for a topic but nothing inspires me. I doodle a while, changing pens, hoping the change in color will kindle some creative energy.
I try to ignore her, but the blank page taunts me now… “Really? You’re not a writer, you’re just a doodler. Your work is so elementary.” Her laughter rings in my ears. Her voice, sounding more like my own, mocking every effort.
Determined not to let her get the best of me today, I start with one letter and a word is born. This small word lends itself to another and then another. A few aimless sentences follow but end up missing my target audience. Scratch that.
I reload. My weapon of choice this time is a Pilot G2 .07 cobalt blue medium point gel. The pen begins to glide across the page with ease. I write my name over and over, imagining how I might pen an autograph at a book signing. The blank page roars with laughter now! She can’t contain herself, screaming in my ear…”You’ve got to be kidding! You think you can write a book? You can’t even come up with a topic!”
I try to pay no attention to her vicious taunts and keep the gel flowing; hoping to ignite something, anything that will allow me to save face against her constant ridicule.
The blank page is so crisp and clean. She is pristine in her new white dress. She’d like nothing more than to keep it that way…forever! Yet, I want to write all over it, leaving my mark for all who will read it.
I want to write stories that inspire and move people. I crave sentence structure and paragraphs that stir people to action. I long to create solid statements that stick in my reader’s mind, to impress upon them to share my message with others. I want to use my words as an arsenal against my past mistakes, allowing them to take flight and land in the hearts and minds of those who need to hear them the most.
I don’t want my words to go before me as just a clanging cymbal but rather a symbol that resonates for Christ! I want to live my life in such a way that my character, my conduct, my conversation and my written words prove that I am a child of God. Forgiven and loved.
So, I reign in my focus. The faint blue lines on the blank page are coming into view now; marching like soldiers as to war. One by one, row by row they lay down on the blank page before me. I honestly expected them to join the sarcastic mockery, but they surprise me today and surrender their spaces on the blank page for me to fill.
Wait, what’s that I hear? Are they actually cheering my on now? The red margins become the point of convergence with the blue lines, as they join together in a concerted effort of encouragement, drowning out the teasing of the blank page. Their voices rise above her cruel sarcasm, as they witness my words form poetic consequences, one word at a time.
My paragraphs beat with heartfelt sentiment, expressing similar thoughts as those of my readers. My content is concise and to the point, not preachy but livable and memorable. The blue lines and margins continue with their exuberant support of my handiwork, as I continue to write.
The blank page has quieted her scoffing remarks now. She sees potential and knows that I am a formidable opponent. I will not let her intimidate me today. I say out loud…”I am a writer!” I scream back at the blank page, yelling at her now…”I will always stain the blank page with my ink!”
I will write on it with all the colors of the rainbow, matching my mood. I will type on it with fonts as bold as the noon day sun. I will scribble notes and to-do-lists. I will compose love sonnets and poems. I will turn my poems into songs that praise our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I will write blog posts and articles that teach. I will hone my craft, writing devotionals that inspire my readers to live their life for Christ! I will pen verse and chorus, prayers and praise! And yes…I will write a book! I will write a book that speaks to young women about the mistakes I’ve made along my life’s journey, in hopes to steer them away from the paths that caused me to stumble.
The blank page shrinks back, spineless, unable to stop the creative energy flowing from my pen. Her own lines and margins abandoned her. She wipes a tear from her eye. Her tear drops begin to flow now, falling on her pretty white dress. She weeps uncontrollably, seeking mercy from me but I continue with the onslaught of ink! I am relentless. I have won the battle against the blank page today and I smile as I close my journal, proud of my work.
I can hear her weeping softly through the night. But her cries don’t affect me anymore, because I know there will be another day that will champion her untouched beauty. I will awaken to a new day. My thoughts will engage as my ideas give rise to yet another writing project. I will reach for my journal to record it, but my excitement will be subdued, as I once again stare at the stark whiteness of the blank page.