"Muse"-ings

I sit staring at a blank sheet of bristol. I've done this before. All I have to do is move the pencil in a certain manner and it produces a faint grey line on the paper. After a few moments these lines appear to become pictures of a sort. Soon I go back over these lines with a nib pen dipped in india ink to preserve the ideas formed by these pencil markings for all time. Yet for the past few weeks when I sit at my table I just see a vast blank page that refuses to change.

I seriously don't imagine this to be writer's block, or at least not in its common form. It seems to be more of a fear or dread based blockage. I want to write and draw but then I start thinking about tomorrow and the day after. Will I be able to maintain this, and if so, then for how long? Do I want to start up the comic strip again, I know I won't be able to maintain a daily or even three times a weekly, so why even start.

But I have to start. Something deep inside of me cries out to be expressed. But what is it? I don't have a story to tell, do I? Where do I even begin if I do have a story? Well, I guess there's always the begining but that's lame. Oh well never mind.

See what I have to deal with? It's like this all the time. My mind takes off and while I am not able to think of a good place to start a story, I am able to sit and fabricate a story in my head that has my comic strip leading to the fall of Western Democracy and assorted plagues throughout the undeveloped world. I need an outlet for all of this energy, but all of that potentential energy fails to become kinetic.

So I sit. And I stare. And I never begin again.