Blank Page

It's weird that the blank page is harder for me than the blank canvas. Any word processing program has that magic little key that allows you to delete anything that doesn't capture the image you're trying to present. In theory, this should make writing much easier than painting. In theory.
When I'm painting anything, I'm usually in a semi-conscious state of damage control. I'll have a great image in mind. Let's say a sunset.
First layer of paint goes down. Doesn't look that promising, but doesn't look that bad either. Second layer goes down and I start getting concerned. About this time I've lost all control over what the final image is going to be, and spend the rest of the time fiddling and tweaking colors to hide mistakes, enhance happy accidents and cover areas where the paint didn't dry completely before I started messing around with another coat. In other words, a heck of a lot of fun.
But writing, good grief! I'm looking at that blank page thinking of a single word to start off the flood of text, and it just isn't there! I'll write a sentence, then another. Then delete the whole thing and start again. I'm sure there's fun in there somewhere. I'll just have to keep looking.

But I have found that both writing and painting do have their happy accidents. And it's a pleasure to see. There's a weird little thrill you get when reading something you've written that uses words you don't normally use. It's like reading a letter from someone else. Strange, but oddly intimate.
Yes, there are also times you'll read that letter and not have a clue what the author is trying to say. That's not so much fun.