The cursor blinks unhelpfully, laughing at me in little spurts.
I sigh, my mind an empty wasteland.
The vast expanse of unfilled white space calls to me, an untapped bounty of potential I just can’t grasp.
My fingers tense, flex, hover over the keys as I struggle for a cogent thought.
Until at last…in desperation…I just start to type.
And finally the space is filled with words.
Inane, hopeful, nonsense syllables–ugly and weak.
But black dissects white…something dances over nothing.
I heave a relieved sigh.
I’ve done it.
I’ve birthed an ugly stepchild.
There is beauty beneath the chaos.
It needs only my careful keystrokes to show its face.
I relax, knowing that I can conquer ugly prose.
But I am helpless against the blank page.
From something I can create something more.
Nothing sorely tests my mettle.