I, too, need to put something on a surface to get myself going.

Nicholas Wong

I both love and hate a blank page. I love the invitation offered by a blank page. Pages without lines ask me questions. Pages with stories invite me in. Pages with images situate me somewhere else. I hate the blank page because it challenges me to create something — to stop talking about writing and write, the extension of which is to finish the writing projects that have been on my heart since my heart started beating. (I do believe certain books have been on my heart since my very beginning, and life has proven to be a process of finding the words and courage to get myself going.)

My journal acts as a creative springboard. I am learning that my creative process works like that. My generative spirit rises in the company of text and image. (I know I am not the only person for whom creativity works like that.) The muse asks me to move away from isolation toward connection and words allow me to connect. Putting something on a surface involves curiosity. Putting something on a surface involves risk. Putting something on a surface involves vulnerability.

There is a sense of inevitability to getting going. When I have to write there is nothing else I can do. I create the space in my body, mind, and spirit to do it. At a certain point, getting going simply happens. Nothing else will. I don’t want to make getting going seem easy. That would not be the truth. Getting going happens despite my attempts (knowingly and unknowingly) to sabotage, quit, derail, unravel, and/or fail. That is the beauty of getting going.