The Blank Page

I stare at my computer's white screen, nothing. Maybe it's just not my day. Should I try paper - something I haven't done in many years. I wonder can I even still write?

I gaze at the empty page. The pen seems heavy in my hand as I hold it.

I hesitantly place the tip of the pen on the page and like witnessing some long forgotten magic come to life again. I am gazing at my own hand moving across the page is strangely hypnotizing, 

My writing is strangely unfamiliar, each letter comes out round and full, each word evenly spaced. It makes me wonder - does handwriting change over time?

The pleasure I find in observing my own scribbles astounds me.


There is a strange excitement – like playing a brand-new video game for the first time. But what to write about? My eyes wander through my apartment till they're drawn to the sight outside my window of the wet tree branches, the sun shinning from each leaf. Their branches seem to sway with words of encouragement, whispering in the breeze. And just like that, I realise half the page is already filled.


An unexpected revelation – There was a piece of myself I'd had misplaced somewhere along the way, and now I've found it back. Deep in thought, I

My thoughts turn to the kitchen I need a coffee to sip and digest what this means. I realise I need to put my pen and paper down while i fill the kettle, I wonder can I do it with one hand so i dont need to stop writing. Maybe I could record it for social media content " how to write a story with one hand while making coffee with the other"

Heading into the kitchen, I'm buzzing with excitement. The idea of sharing my new interests on social media seems fresh and interesting. With the kettle starting to whistle, I quickly grab my phone to capture the moment, holding a pen and paper in one hand and adeptly going through the motions of brewing coffee with my other.

Pouring hot water into the mug, the smell of hot coffee hits me, I pause a moment to take in the fragrance, a feeling of contentment flows over me, I put down my pen and paper without disturbing my flow of thoughts.

Back at my desk with my cup in-hand, I take a sip. The aromatic taste wakes up my brain cells. The caffeine stirs up my imagination and I find myself getting better ideas for my tale. My thoughts translate into words that keep increasing sentence after sentence.

As my thoughts stream across the page, it makes me realize how important this moment is. Writing physically has inspired me to remember simpler times when technology did not control our existence. It’s sort of proof that sometimes, turning away from our screens can sometimes trigger unexpected happiness and motivation.

With every word I write, it refreshes my sense of objective and satisfaction further. The narrative feels real and seems to be leading its own life. It seems as if writing by hand has opened up an undiscovered part of my thought process enabling deeper fantasies.

Reaching the bottom of the page, I stop to admire the complete canvas filled with words forming sentences. The ink seems like a physical form of my thoughts and feelings captured over a period of time. I have learned that handwriting is an extraordinary and personalized way of expression.

Overflowing with thankfulness and excitement I decide to keep writing, impatient to know where this new found likeness for handwriting will lead to. As I reveal my journey to others, I hope to you will rediscovering the happiness of handwriting, and discover the magic hidden in the simple act of pen touching paper.