White Space

Every day I go to it, I see it and I ponder.

I see the white space, an open space, calling to be filled. Filled with stories of wit and humor, of terror and fear, of history or visions of the future, where we can go or where we have been.

It is a place of visceral thoughts. Be they of prosperity or demise, this is the place where all beginnings and endings find life or death.

For me, it is where I dream. My world of stories and thoughts, that place where they spill from my mind and cover the space, the white space. It demands reverence for others have come before, creating miracles of thought and word.

I dream of my miracles, but wonder if I am worthy to follow in the footsteps of Shakespeare, Emerson, Chaucer and Hemingway.

This white space calls to me, “find your courage, take the risk, they did.” To be worthy, risk is part of the calling. To dream the impossible dream and put it down in terms the layman can comprehend, enjoy and revere. Am I worthy of reverence?

I am not spurious in my dedication, it is my commitment to love and nurture this white space before me. To find the words to tell, to tell my stories in a readable way, a way challenged by my failings. And that is part of the risk, to stand against those failings, failings we all possess in one shape or another.

None of my short comings are greater or smaller than those of others, just mine, living in the mind that hosts them.

In their place my challenges can make me great if I rise against them, only smaller, if I don’t. I can be the Man of La Manchu if I rise or unknown if I don’t. I will.

I will, because I am a writer!

That is my dream, to be a real writer, to wander amongst the words and craft a story to stimulate my readers. To reward my readers with something worthy of their time and take them away to whole new world, to a place they have never been.

If I can do that, then I am truly what I desire, a writer, living in that zone where I dream, alone in the white space.

David Hutchison… Writer!

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