Starting something new—a project, journal, canvas, or roll of film—always hits with a bit of an edge. The intimidation of that clean, untouched space, daring me to mess it up. I have to fight it every time. It’s too easy to freeze, to spiral into overthinking, to let the blank perfect stay perfect—and blank.
But something I've done in the past is helping me start here today.
Here’s the trick: I make a mark. Any mark. A scribble, a careless scratch, a swipe of ink or paint, a random point and click of my camera—whatever it takes to shatter that perfect, untouched nothing.
Imperfection, right from the start.
It breaks the spell.
Now, here I am, staring at this empty post. Black cursor, blinking in wait. The pull inward is strong. The pressure to be something—to say something—that familiar freeze.
So here’s my start. My fight against perfection and pressure to have something or be something or whatever. A messy, necessary first step:
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There. Pressure’s off. Sigh of relief.