This screen is blank.
Now that I’ve typed four words, it is less blank.
At present, there are 14 words on the screen, and I can relax a bit. I will still be concerned about the order of the words, how well they flow, how well they convey my idea, my mood, my Right Now. But the more I type, the less overwhelming everything seems. I must keep typing.
A blank screen is intimidating. I always worry that no matter how well I beat back the last one, I won’t be able to do it again. The last one may have resulted in the greatest batch of words ever splattered over a blank screen, but that doesn’t matter. There is now this new one to contend with.
I despise you, you blank screen, you. You are a sonofabitch.
It doesn’t matter how many times I come up against you. You’re…
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