Some days I think I have the best job in the world. I mean how many people get to say, today, I stayed in my pajamas, I worked from my papasan chair curled up with the cat, and too many energy drinks.
Then there are the other days, the days I question what I'm doing. When the story won't move, no matter how hard I shove, and the ideas just aren't there. The days that make me want to hide under the blanket, away from the dreaded blank page monster.
For those of you that don't know, the blank page monster is my mortal enemy. I've never actually seen him, but I imagine he looks something like a cross between the boogieman and the monster under the bed, if you used a shrink ray on them. He's small because he has to be able to squeeze into the screen. From there he taunts you, torments you, and makes you wish you'd never seen a word processor, or thought about writing, EVER.
I'm also reasonably sure that he's behind the blinking curser—a constant reminder that you're not typing. Your fingers are just resting on the keys doing nothing, when they should, in fact, be doing something. This leads me to attempt to make them do anything just to make the curser move. Lines of chaos come next, in panic like outbursts.
By this point, I usually find myself so exhausted from just typing anything to rid myself of the blank page monster that I haven't written anything of value. I then end up highlighting the page of nonsense, and hitting delete.
The delete button is seriously lacking something in terms of frustration release; it has nothing on the traditional crumpling up of paper and throwing it in the trash. On days where the blank page monster and I go to war, I wish for a way to virtual smash the pages of gibberish, or light them on virtual fire, something more gratifying than delete.
For today, at least I've won my epic battle with the blank page monster. Perhaps, I'll win again tomorrow.
