The blank page. Is it a wild and...
…untamed thing of beauty, promise or terror?
A scrap of paper or blinking screen bereft of ideas and stories – emotional, funny, fantastical, opinionated, witty, whatever – is akin to standing still in life, staring straight ahead thinking WTF now?
The possibilities are endless, overwhelming – or a heady mix of both.
Last week I teased the ol’ TikTok algorithm by uploading my ‘unleash’ on the most exasperating and damaging people on the planet right now – dumb parents (aka the folks who should’ve saved their ovaries and sperm for science).
My 2-ish minute video shot in one take in a park with a playground has clocked up 6,953 views so far. But it’s less about numbers and more about the comments which are overwhelmingly on the side of intentional parenting against all the odds mired in social media madness, toxic peer influence and undercooked teen brains.
If I’m to slavishly follow (kinda) viral TikTok etiquette, I’ve gotta keep feeding the beast of outrage. Thing is, I don’t want to, unless I have something of substance to share of course.
And now the blank page looms. Or does it?
To be honest, I have lots to say on lots of stuff that doesn’t necessarily pander to polite society or popular narratives. And as my zero-care-factor grows in intensity (thank you menopausal hormonal rollercoaster), so does my courage.
But the question begs. Does the blank page turn me on? You better believe it.
Watch this space – clearly.
© Phyllis Foundis 2025