The Blank Page

I hate staring at a blank page.  When I have a story, and I'm not sure where to start, I can't just sit there and ponder with a clean slate in front of me.  It's too stressful.  Instead, I jump in and write something ... anything ... to avoid looking at the blank page.  (Much like I'm doing now!)

But here's the thing: You can always go back and change it.  If you started in the wrong place, no problem.  Go back and cut or add more to fix it.  If your voice was a little off because you weren't sure where you wanted to be, you can rewrite it after you've finished, when the voice is more concrete in your head.  In the end, having an imperfect piece of writing is infinitely better than being stuck on that blank page.

The prompt this week is twofold.  One:  Follow my writing prompt and post your comment.  Two: Go to your current writing project and add 2000 words to it this week.  Don't let that blank page or the question of where to go from here stop your progression as a writer.  Anything, no matter how imperfect, is better than a blank page.

This week's writing prompt:  "It was past crazy.  Like ... playing chicken with a gas tanker crazy."

Enjoy!

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My response:

The hole was black as Hell, and we were sure to end up there if we kept on with this crazy idea. 

Krista let out an adrenaline-fueled giggle, the notes echoing through the black circle at our feet.  Sara punched her in the shoulder, jerking her head towards the ritzy hotel sitting at the bottom of the slope.  The hot springs pool was open twenty four hours, and while no customers were there, a pair of bored lifeguards lounged outside the snack shack.

Maggie was the only one not hyped up.  She held her phone in both hands, scanning it around slowly.  I could see her setting up the video in her mind.  It would start with a panorama of where we were, explain the stunt, and then, after she'd signaled us, scan over to four girls in ski masks, hair tucked neatly away and only long, tanned limbs to identify us.  The first video had gone viral, the third one made international headlines.  YouTube fans clamored for more.

And Sara's ideas, reckless from the start, were getting to be downright dangerous.

I eased up to the edge, careful to stay out of Maggie's shot, but I needed to get a look for myself.  This hot spring had been blocked off for years, ever since some kid drowned in it.  It was in a hollow cave that went straight down into the granite of the mountain.  Ninety feet above, a hole allowed sunlight in.  The hotel had carved out a second entrance just above water level and built a dock, but that was all boarded up  now.  It had taken all four of us to pull the manhole cover off the hole at the top... the cover intended to keep people out.

Deb waited until Maggie stepped back, then knelt down next to me.  She pulled a handful of light sticks out of her bag.  Glancing behind her, she made sure her body was between the lights of the hotel and what she was doing.  I maneuvered myself to make sure no one on the road could see.  She snapped a stick and tossed it down towards the side where we suspected the dock would be.

The light fell too quickly, faster than my eyes could adjust.  All I saw was the glimmering of moist walls before the plop of the light stick into water, then darkness.  Three more times we tried before she found the dock.  Then we peered down.

"Is that only ninety feet?" Krista whispered, the shock of it squelching her giggles.

"Don't be a baby, Krista." Sara growled, shaking out her hair and pulling it back into a ponytail.

Deb looked up at me, her eyes dark in the moonlight.  "Do you think it's possible they drained it?"

I shook my head slowly, trying to think.  Could you drain a hot spring?  Did it just look bad because we were at the top looking down?  Was it me, or did that dock stick out awful close to where we'd be falling?

I caught Sara's eye on me.  "If it had been drained, we'd still be able to see the light sticks that fell in the water, right?"  I returned her glare.  I wasn't afraid.  Or at least, I wouldn't give her any reason to call me on it.  "I'm sure it's fine."  I forced my legs to straighten and strode back over to our stuff, stripping off my t-shirt to reveal my black cami and running shorts, our trademark outfits. 

It's go time.