Blank paper.
There is an expression, “a blank state.” We use it when nothing comes to mind. It describes thought stopping in surprise or confusion. Literally, the inside of the head feels white like blank paper. Long ago, when one placed a sheet of paper before oneself and had to write something, did people think that way? “This paper is as white as my mind.”
Times have changed, and the place where we write is not always white paper. When we open a word processor, it shows an image imitating paper, lets us adjust margins, and displays what will be printed, but that does not make it the same as paper. The feeling just before writing is probably similar whether one opens Notepad or a word processor.
Likewise, when writing on a phone, I do not feel that it is blank paper. In my case, I also like writing on an e-reader, and since it uses e-ink, the display background is a pale olive color, something like rough paper behind glass. All of these are expressions of paper prepared for writing. Unlike paper, however, the settings and colors vary, so the pressure does not necessarily approach as whiteness. Especially because my style is to prepare for writing only after something I want to say appears, I do not open a window and think, “What should I do?” or “What should I write?” or “What should I fill it with?” I only sometimes think, “What if time passes and I have to write as an obligation? What if a day comes when I think like that?” I do not know how I would see the blinking cursor while preparing a computer or something else and waiting. I am not curious. Since I dislike forcing myself to do things, imagining such pressure does not suit me.
This thought came suddenly because I remembered the film Limitless. I had watched it repeatedly because of the visual effects suited to each situation, but after learning that it was inspired by Adderall, I began to think those effects glamorized drugs and stopped watching it often. There is a scene in which the protagonist cannot write, then under the drug’s effect writes madly. Because the film emphasizes the drug’s effect, the contrast before and after is dramatic. The writing scene, with its added graphics, actually feels less realistic. The scene of being unable to write feels more like a hidden camera had found a writer with no trace of inspiration: the word processor open, the blinking cursor watched, one line written and then entirely erased with backspace, the cursor continuing to blink as if angry, the writer unable to endure its pressure and playing with a basketball before going out to drink.
Sometimes, when I write reports, I stare at the screen like that. In my head I am organizing the table of contents, but what I see is an empty document and a blinking cursor. Staring at it, I sometimes wonder what it would feel like if I were not organizing the contents in my head, if I truly did not know what to write. Reports are different from essays or fiction because their form and purpose are set. If a report cannot be written, either the details of its items or its purpose are unclear. By contrast, if a freely written piece cannot be written, it only means thought has stopped. If one follows thought well, that does not happen. Sometimes the direction originally intended changes while writing. Some people say that their personality requires building the frame from beginning to end before writing, but I cannot write that way. When one section ends and I arrive at a place where the next content must be filled, I begin worrying, “How do I connect the earlier part to this part here?” and the thought breaks. That state is closest to blankness for me. The cursor blinks, but I cannot see the direction forward.
When that happens, the piece is over. I can no longer write it. For me, writing is also a tool of thought, so I cannot say something like, “In the end, what remains is the writing.” In truth, more important than the finished piece are the thoughts that arise while writing it. Cutting into the writing technically with the idea that only completion matters feels poisonous to me. Since I do not feel that way when writing reports, it is not always the case. It is simply true of the pieces I write because I want to write them. When a situation absolutely requires a finished piece, I suppose I adapt to that situation somehow. When I say, “I like writing,” the writing I mean is writing as a tool that frees thought. If one is free, blank paper is no longer pressure. To a general fighting a war, a wide field may appear heavy as a goal to be seized and defended through countless battles. To a traveler, it remains land with a pleasant view, where one may go this way or that.
Original Korean article: 백지와 편안한 글쓰기