Turn the Page

It seems I've somehow started writing again. I finished a new story and immediately started another which I am five pages into. And here I am noodling again.

Last night noodling on this new story which as yet does not have a title - which is bothering me a little but not too much as writing anything is such a marked improvement. Then I noticed this.

The pattern is I will write long-handed (too often long-winded) in pencil. I'll type it up - print it - edit it, and try to move forward. Moving forward is the funny part. Rather than turn the page and start scribbling - I will scribble up and down the margins. Tentacles circling around the printed text. But almost never will I turn the page. Afraid, I guess, to face again all that white. The bright white abyss of a blank page.