On Writer's Block

Once upon a time, there was just paper and a pen. No keyboads, no bright shiny monitor, no cpu fan whirring along with the music from your ipod. Just a single-hand interface on a permanent surface. They used sand or a razor blade for the mistakes, and later something called White-Out, which smelled something akin to burnt rubber tires. A line struck through the offending passage was an acceptable if not completely ideal alternative. Cut-and-paste simply wasn’t an option unless one wished to, well, cut and paste. It was low cost and the ultimate in portable – it didn’t need batteries and could be taken anywhere. It could even be used in candlelight. The only problem was the page itself. It liked to stare. It was very confrontational, this page. It would stare, white and unmarred, challenging the operator to write something profound and, preferably, soon. Many have stood for years in front of the page, the page glaring back and demanding tribute. It was the downfall more than one great writer, this page, and no doubt why so many of that profession turned to alcohol as they cracked under the pressure.

Then we invented computers.

Now, the writer’s task was so much easier. Paragraphs and chapters could be shuffled back and forth like a deck of cards. Backspace replaced White-Out. There was spellcheck. We could, we were informed, pour Jack Daniels down the drain and rejoice in the marvel that technology had presented us. Nothing could be further from the truth. For you see, the page was still there, blank as ever. Worse still, the page now had a buddy. He was known as the cursor. He was more impatient than the page, who sat Buddha-like and waited for the emptiness to be filled. He was very impatient, this cursor, he liked to blink in all his foot-tapping glory as the writer struggled to find something, anything to make him stop. Liquor store profits skyrocketed.

I suppose in the future some great mind will invent something for truly helpful for those of us who produce the written word. Perhaps they can solve the age-old problem of writer’s block and pull the great opening lines from our head and present them to us on a silver platter. Perhaps the great struggle between writer and page will cease and there will be love, harmony, and understanding. Maybe even world peace.

Until then, pass me the scotch. ;)