The Blank Slate

Having sat down on my birthday—yesterday—to begin this blog, I photographed my blank blog and my blank notepad to mark another beginning. The blank notepad—a birthday present—had sat for several years on my bookshelf asking, “Are you a writer?”

I wasn’t. Oh, I wrote—a lot—as a business analyst. I even wrote—infrequently—for pleasure. But the blank slate frightened me a little. As my muse struggled to surface, I feared, “I have nothing to write.”

I reflect on the first painting that I bought, as a young man in the eighties. While I spoke with Joy Zemel Long, during her exhibit of orange crate paintings on the lawn overlooking Stanley Park Garden, she described how children approach playing as a blank slate. She captured my imagination and for years I’ve thought, “I wish I could be a writer.”

Last summer, I registered to study Technical Writing at BCIT. I will publish five more posts by Friday for one of my assignments and expect to continue publishing a weekly blog for my art. I am having the time of my life and I think, “I might be a writer.”

I look forward to this festive season of parties and meeting new people. When they ask about me, I will answer, “I am a writer.”