I had thought about starting this off with a joke—something about how phone calls I don’t expect or having to wear pants terrifies me. While both of those things are true, though—and let’s not forget the horrors of having to decide if those I am not a robot test pictures are in the square or not—I figured, why not be more honest on this one?
I’ve spent lots of years talking to other writers, and I commonly hear how they are terrified of writers’ block. They’re afraid of having nothing to say or not saying it the right way. Those blank pages are what keeps them up at night, the fear that they won’t fill those pages with anything good. I’ve always felt odd, like I don’t quite belong, because it is the absolute opposite that haunts me.