Blank pages are twin-edged: brimming with unfocused potential, yet so serene in their purposeless virginity as to numb and daunt any immediate creativity that confronts them.
They grin at writers like clever idiots, at once taunting us with the knowledge that we might make them anything and overwhelming us with half-imagined examples of what “anything” might be.
Woe to the writer who seizes paper and pen “to write”! –for the blank page is an imp that cannot be tamed by the pen, but only by an Idea. It is a truth confirmed by common experience that an Idea and a Blank Page cannot long abide in one another’s presence.