My writing drive is always betraying me. When I’m not writing I have the urge to write. Stories pop into my head and my imagination swells to the point of hurting. But when I reach a blank paper, there is nothing. My pen is glued to the top of the sheet. My mind is an unmoving stone. My imagination is a man who finishes early and leaves and I am an unpaid whore.
I have devised a way to combat this case of writer’s block! Write before I get to a blank page. Just today, I had absolutely no story in mind at all, but I had a vague urge to write. I had dollar store pens in my bag and a vague idea of a character’s aesthetic looks (but no deeper). I picked up a loitering newspaper from the seat to my front and unsheathed my pen. With reckless writerly abandon, not caring whether my writing was tacky or pretentious, or even legible, I attacked every white space between paragraphs. I wrote in every spot in which blank ink would be legible, made many spelling mistakes, but, in the end, finished a story. I’m still holding the paper right now. Perhaps I’ll throw it out. Maybe I’ll leave it somewhere with a chance to be discovered. Maybe I’ll keep it and transcribe it to text. But I did it. I have found a way to, for now, defeat my writer’s block.