The Blank Page
In one of the many self-help/goal setting/business starting/mindfulness/mental health books that I’ve read, an artist was discussing procrastination and the fear of the blank page. The fear of starting something that wouldn’t work, wouldn’t be good enough. Her method was to get up every day and paint until she felt like painting. That’s when the magic would happen. If she had just got up and decided she didn’t feel like painting today and did nothing, nothing would be the result.
So get up and fill that blank page!!
I stopped filling blank pages in my late teens. Before that I’d fill a boring Sunday afternoon with drawing, I’d write stories as well as making them up on the fly when putting my little sister to bed (she was always the star). When a particular friend came for a sleep over we’d spend the evening painting. As a very young child I thought my paternal grandmother was awesome because she was an ‘artist’, having taken up watercolours in her retirement. Then I stopped all of that. I think it may have been a symptom of a depression that wouldn’t be diagnosed for years.
The fear of the blank page is very common, but is it a misconception? Could it be that the blank page is a whole world of possibility, full of magical potential. Whether you’re drawing, keeping a journal, planning that next bestselling novel or just doodling while on the phone, whatever you’ve put on that page is a creation. The action of creation fulfils a basic human need, it’s an achievement, whatever is on that no longer blank page is yours, you made that. Whether you are Phillip Pullman (who handwrites his novels three pages a day), or you’ve just drawn a stickman with his head exploding because you’re in a boring meeting, it’s something you feel, it is something new, something you can look at and love (or hate).
I keep the pages in my notebooks blank rather than lined both out of personal preference and that it makes the books more versatile. In a world of the instant, the time taken to write or draw can be an action of mindfulness, you are slowing down, you are feeling and noticing how you feel. You’re taking in the action of your hand, you may even hurt your wrist as you try to get the words out faster. This is why I will never make bullet journals, no matter how popular they are. You can start writing one thing and end up with something completely different, a bad drawing can lead to a better one, or a new idea can come out of it. If you’re ticking boxes, rating your day or mood from 1 to 10 this can’t happen. The only good thing I’ve seen in bullet journals is a box for gratefulness. It is easy to forget to be grateful, even if it’s just for the fact that you have running water (which I hope you do!). However when you think of all the things you can be grateful for that box is never big enough.