Oh. It’s a blank page.  Hello, block of white.

As I start writing it feels like you do after you’ve written stuff and received feedback. Feedback on creative work has an energy with a noise and a pulse, hitting you in waves. Similar to grief or love. You can hear it again and again.  Praise feedback is like new love, lust or a new job, charging you into action. You’re alive and have a sense of freedom, heard, you have a voice and creative joy celebrates  … whoo hoo …  Sometimes it’s so good you want to write more … unless you feel scared of not living up to the last time.

Sometimes the noise and the vibrations, the reverberating feedback, can take over, like the end of a Jesus and Marychain gig, it will confuse you.  Then you feel numb, dull, once hopeful but now all your excitement is gone. It’s as if you’re dead from the neck up. A robot. Face it. You should never write again. You’re the most ordinary nobody who truly has nothing worth writing or reading in the first place, right?  Not me. Good or bad, winds will blow and so, being brave – but not quite ready to blog yet – I’m saying hello to this blank page, this block of white space. Back soon with words for my brand new blog as a reader of books and blogs and thoughts, a writer of stories, a dreamer and thinker of images, a poet of prose and a prose writing poet. 


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