I sit to write every morning having no idea what the subject is going to be. There is only a blank page before me, and in a moment the thoughts begin to flow and words start to appear on the page.
I have no idea where they come from, I just know that they will come. Without fail, every day, the page begins to fill up with those thoughts and then I walk away.
Often when I return to edit the words, I can’t remember having written them. It is like reading it for the first time. It is a form of automatic writing, where nothing is censored and it just spills on to the page.
The editing usually involves rearranging the blocks into something cohesive, because often the thoughts are scattered around with no thread connecting them.
Sometimes I have to change the title because what I thought I was going to write about turned into something else completely.
Continue reading “A Blank Page”