‘Dear Blank Page,
Today, I concede. You win. I have no words to sully your surface, no tales to fill up your gaps. You shall remain blank for the foreseeable future. You see life keeps getting in the way. The world intrudes on my thoughts and stories leaving me empty, unable to string a sentence together. I tried, heaven knows I tried. I started at least fifteen times, and deleted as many again. A poem was here for a brief stint and then a murder mystery but they all felt a little peaky and had to go home again.
So blank you shall remain and blocked I shall stay; perhaps when we’ve all had a better day, I can start again and the words will flow. And on that day we shall go many places, to space and the past, perhaps at the same time. A time-travelling vampire lord shall invade those vast white open spaces and swashbuckle his way through a plot leaving you scarred by his adventures, leaving echoes for others to read. A troop of space-farers may decide upon one more daring heist and you will have to pay witness to their outlandish plans as they let their ship hover in orbit waiting for their chance to steal the gaps away and leave their signature behind. Or perhaps a girl who can see through objects will burn a hole through the nothingness, see through the wall and find the words behind. She’ll climb through and find magic and mayhem and let it all spill on the page like a Pandora’s box.
Until then, Blank Page, I shall bid you goodnight. Enjoy your crisp, virgin space while it lasts as this won’t hold forever. The words will come, even if simply nonsense for a while and before you know it you won’t be a blank page. You’ll be a window to a world more magical than this, an escape route for those waiting to forget reality for a time. My pen is waiting, biding its time. It can be patient with me, for it knows…it knows, no page remains blank forever.
Yours, The Writer.’