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Blank
There is absolutely nothing more terrifying than a blank page. To a writer, this symbolizes potential. Potential to be great. But, if not executed correctly, or done just right, a writer recognizes this as a great potential for failure. To not meet expectations. Horror ensues.
What is often even worse than this is when the writer is under a deadline presented by another party, the result of societal obligations, ect., and must come up with an idea, muse, spirit, story of the heart that simply isn't there. Isn't ready to be told yet. Not yet.
Contrary to some beliefs, a writer does not immediately print and publish and prostitute out their tale when it is first conceived in the mind. Sometimes it takes months, years, decades for one to believe that their story is fully mature. Fully ready for another being's eyes.
These periods of hiatus can sometimes involve editing, some changing of the tale. Other times it is simply waiting on a notepad, hard drive, or just sitting as a half realized idea on a boulangerie napkin stuffed in the back of one's closet. Regardless, it is a great task indeed to systematically and methodically work over an idea to hone it into the fully realized form that many take for granted.
Perhaps this is because of the age we live in, where precious pieces of art, literature, and music can be observed within seconds from any location on Earth.
Complacency creeps upon us as consumers have more information and product than ever to choose from. Gone are the days where books were stolen, fought over, and died over. Knowledge is no longer a scarce resource for many. This encourages short, simple works that can be quickly processed and allow the reader a superficial satisfaction that lasts only moments instead of a lifetime of reflection. On to the next!
It's like Isolde is dying all over again. Only now it's much, much worse.
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