By Karlie Mickanuik
The mind goes blank when forced to create.
I frantically write the first words that appear in my mind hoping to find ones that fit together,
But once again I click the key to delete the work.
The characters disappear into the white page that sits before me.
It needs to be written, it needs to be done.
And so I write and write and think I’m making progress.
The little voice that dictates my worth is just about to congratulate me and then,
I blow it all away like a snowstorm on a mountain top getting stronger until I can only see white.
The snowy mountain top that I imagine speaks to me, taunts me to write
The white page stares back at me mocking me and my creativity
I know I must complete the hike and finish my work
Sure I could write down anything, cut the hike half way and be done with it
But will I feel any sense of accomplishment
Or is aiming for that feeling a waste of time anyways
There is always a faster hiker, always a better writer
A mediocre hiker never makes the news, a mediocre writer never gets awards
