Three blank pages

There are quite a few things that represent a “monster” in our lives. As a child, I always had some attraction for them. I loved the night monsters, and the ones who lived in the depth of the oceans, and also those who silently came to the kitchen to steal from mom’s cookies’ pots. I loved them all, especially because I knew they would leave as soon as I wanted them to. All I had to do was to call mommy and ask her to make them go. She would then tell me some story of good fairies and nice sweet girls, and the ugly creatures would simply vanish – monsters would never stay anywhere where there were good fairies and nice sweet girls…
Nowadays, I frequently have my three year-old grandson on my lap begging me to tell him a story. “Which one will we have today?” I will always ask. Usually he wants one with wolves, and witches, and – monsters, but as soon as they come in the scene, he will put his little soft hand on my lips and say, “Grandma, I’ve had enough of this, tell the story of Winnie the Pooh.”
One would say that as you grow up, you grow out of fear of monsters, right? Absolutely wrong! It is funny how, as we age, that weird feeling ripens within us. We wish for monsters, we search for them – and once we do find them – we want an easy and fast way out. But the really funny thing is – if that is funny at all – that the older we are, the bigger the “monsters” seem to us.
At the age of 40, I suddenly started believing that I could be a writer. It was all very nice until I decided to start a school for writers. During all my life, on weekends and holidays at my dad’s, the kids in the family would always gather wherever I was, and ask me for stories and jokes and games. My relatives and friends would tell me that I had “a way” with the words, so one day I decided to write a story – publish a book, and turn myself into an “immortal”. Well, after some real hard work, the book was there, but I didn’t seem to be immortal yet, so I gave it a little thought and said to myself – “What you need is a good school for writers”. And I found one.
At the beginning it was all nice and fun, “Read this and do the same”, “Read that and do something similar”… But as the course was developing, there came the day when the biggest of all monsters appeared in the scene – huge, hairy, and hungry, in the shape of a homework. The monster, I mean, the task was to fill three blank pages, with something “from within”, a past experience, something somebody would be interested in reading. What in the world could that be?
For four months, I thought about it. What would I have to say that could interest anyone? Why would anybody read something about me and be interested from the first to the last line?
As time went by, the first monster brought some friends, and then more, and more. By the end of the 122nd day, I found myself sweating during the night, reflective during the day and shivering through day and night. I had to do something; and no teddy bear would give me a hand, as there were no teddy bears in my past experiences – not as something to interest a reader anyway…
But I finally found a solution.
On a rainy day, as my boots were wet and my hands were freezing, there was I, in front of the huge, fierce, frightening, scary Blank Paper. I looked at it deeply, in the center of its heart, and said to myself – in a very low voice, so it would not hear me – “My dear, if you really want to be a writer, you will have to beat this Goliath”. And so I did. I started filling the first page with words, and feelings, and truths. Soon there were three complete pages, filled from top to bottom with words that meant not only to tell a story and occupy a space, but also to beat a monster, and show others that even after-age, one can fight and win battles against inner phantasms, usually brought to us, by our own creation and lack of self-confidence. I beat it this time; hopefully I will beat it again in the future, should it come to me once more.
Anyway, the feeling is gratifying and refreshing – and the best of all - the task has finally come to an end.
Page 3!