Blank Chapter


I dance on the corner of a new page, my toes balance on its edge; a death-defying high-wire act.

I look down and see nothing but white, emptiness, endless space to live and love and create.

But I can’t turn the page.

I’m between a hastily written chapter and what’s yet to come.

And what’s yet to come is unplanned, unwritten, unknown.

I retrace my steps, skipping on the tops of familiar words, words that I’ve already written.

But I can’t go backward. I must move forward.

I peek at the vast endlessness ahead of me. The unknown. The unknown is always inherently scary.

When I think about it, I feel numb, paralyzed.

Words become straight-jackets, strapped tight to my body, inescapable. Sentences I haven’t written yet hold me down, weighing on me.

Million upon millions of words that should be pouring out of my mouth, my brain, dried up like a drought.

My head is throbbing, my chest is heaving; slick sweat clings to my skin like 100 degree New York humidity after sex.

I’m staring at the ceiling. White. Blank. Empty.

Where do I go from here? What’s my next word…

I’m fated to pretend.

I dangle onto a new page. No choice. No way out.

Except to write.

And hope for the best.

Note: This is not me. I do not have brown hair. And I am not a cartoon. Unfortunately.
This is a comic book cover that I have turned upside-down. The Unwritten #1 by
Mike Carey, Peter Gross, Chris Chuckry. Vertigo Comics.


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