Why Writers Love Blank Pages

There’s something special about that blank page. Something “perfect,” as Neil Gaiman explains.

There are no errors. No better ways to say something. No fumbling for words. No fear of misinterpretation.

It’s far less stressful than a full page. They don’t bring about those random thoughts in the shower or right before falling asleep of the one thing you forgot to say.

It really is something beautiful.

The only problem is that my blank page says the same thing as anyone else’s. And in fact, there are already plenty of perfect blank pages out there. So it is great and beautiful in its own right, but it’s also been done only a million and twenty seven times before.

If I want to make the most productive use of my time, it might be worth spending it creating something new. Making new mistakes. Not just doing what’s already been done quite well before.

The thing is, there’s so much to say. There’s so freaking much to say that hasn’t been said. Or things that could be said in a different way. And it doesn’t need to be said perfectly. Good enough is more than enough.

There’s so much out there. Just waiting to be shared.

It’s just a matter of reasoning with, or outright circumventing, the gatekeepers holding it all back.

If you’re looking for perfect, go look at a blank page, because you won’t find it here.