There it is, the blinking cursor. The uncapped pen. The empty white silence of the page.
They wait for you. They always wait for you.
Except that maybe this time, no. Even the dust motes, your loyal friends of childhood, even they have given up, gone away. Someplace where they are wanted.
Everything hinges on the pause. The thin tendrils of inner smoke. The fire might come.
It might …
Breathe.
Spookville: A Love Story 
We have all felt this… us versus the page.
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Definitely!
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So perfectly and precisely describing that obstacles writer’s hate so much.
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You described this so well. I feel this way often. Thank you for sharing!
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A perfect expression of what it’s like to deal with writer’s block!
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It never comes out so poetic when I write about that blank page! Good slice- we really get it.
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Thanks! The irony was that I was trying to come up with a slice and couldn’t come up with anything. Just kept staring at that blinking cursor. This slice was what I call “pure fingertips” – no thinking, just typing.
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I’ve experienced that tyranny so many times.
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I love this. I definitely feel like I’m living this image this month! Yikes!
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