I sit to write what is to be my first novel, and the cursor blinks at me.
I stare at the white screen as it glares back, daring me to perform, daring me to begin, One strike against a key one letter one word.. a sentence perhaps,.. ... a paragraph or two...
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moments later the cursor persists
determined from deep within the white canvas screen.. Taunting me
Which of us is truly empty, it implies.. You or I?