Writing is hard work at the best of times but there is no aspect more troubling, frustrating, and downright intimidating than facing that first blank page. The very sight of it is enough to send some writers into a blind panic. My friend Justin, when confronted by that endless sea of white, has been known to tear off all of his clothes and run screaming into the streets (something he’s not otherwise prone to do, even when the gasman calls). Other writers cite a sense of dread. Some experience feelings of self-doubt. And a few speak of a seemingly endless run of sleepless nights as they fight to make a mark, any mark, any mark at all. And, before you ask, taking a pen and scrawling “Writing sucks” in large capital letters doesn’t count. Apparently.
But why should something so seemingly innocuous cause so much consternation? Perhaps it’s the fact that even if you do manage to write a few words they are just the first of many tens of thousands. Or perhaps it’s the fact that so much pressure is placed on getting the first page just right – after all, first impressions are everything, aren’t they? Or perhaps it’s the fact that the moment you do write those first few words the compulsion to write more kicks in and you soon find chained to a desk with a voice saying “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy” running constantly through your mind? Honestly, is it any wonder I spend so much time putting it off?
In fairness to myself, I’m not the sort of writer who can just sit down and churn out 60,000 words of prose that actually makes sense. Heaven knows how the likes of Cormac McCarthy manage it. I need to plan everything out. But this is less prevarication than necessity. You see, my sense of direction is somewhat legendary. And for all of the wrong reasons. Without a map I’d get lost travelling from London to Newington. This means that much of my initial writing consists of scribbling notes, sketching out characters, and mapping out the basic plot. Whether this actually constitutes writing or not, I’ll leave for others to debate. But, from my own point of view, at least I’m getting something down on the page.
Having planned a book, realised the characters, and collated a wealth of ideas, I find myself left with little choice but to return to where we came in and face the first blank page once more. Does it look as daunting as it initially did? Of course it does. In fact, if anything, it looks an even more daunting sight because now there is nowhere to hide. Now I have to actually write something. Now I have to actually write something that people will want to actually read.
It’s about this time that I tend to take a coffee break. This might seem flippant but it’s serious advice. Writers are forever writing. They don’t need to be sat at their desks. They just need their own company. Which is just as well when I consider how a certain friend of mine says that he does all of his best writing whilst in the shower. But if this sounds like yet more prevarication, let me just quote the aforementioned Cormac McCarthy: “The writing process isn’t always about typing. It’s often about examining the world around us. Searching for inspiration. It’s about daydreaming, imagining, and pondering.” If it’s good enough for Cormac McCarthy ...
Coffee break over and it’s time to write once more. I write one word and then another and then another. Soon the words are coming easily and I am well on my way, the constant click and clack of the keyboard music to my ears (if not my better half’s; at least whilst he’s watching Corrie). Words become sentences. Sentences become paragraphs. Paragraphs become pages. And then I stop, breathe a sigh, and read back what I’ve written. And discover that this week’s blog is complete.
Time to start work on the opening line of my next novel then ...
