The Same Old Song and Dance

As I was jogging slowly and painfully tonight in the rain, a thought struck me. To be successful, I have to stop comparing myself to other people. The only thing that matters is how I perform and how I improve. It's not an accurate measurement otherwise. How do you calibrate against infinite possibility?

In my oxygen deprived, lung burning haze, I wondered in a similar vein: what if the reason that a blank sheet is so terrifying, is that it represents infinity and writer's block is simply the act of being overwhelmed?

The white page is a high-level view of static. With practice, you can cross your eyes and drill down into every variation of every human story on each intersecting time line in curved space. It's not that there's nothing to write about, it's that there's too much to write about. The job of a writer is then to separate the wheat from the chaff, or rather, focus on a dot the size of a period and see how deep it goes.

Or maybe the writer's job is to just shut up and write already. The world may never know.