The reluctant blogger lightly raps on the partially opened door. As the door opens wider, she peers around it, then cautiously moves into the empty room.
It’s dark and smells musty from nonuse. The only light is coming from the thin rays of sun shining through the slats of the window blind and the steady heartbeat of the sleep light on the laptop, sitting on the desk. As she walks towards the desk, she finds the squeaky spot on the floor, ruining her attempt to sneak up on the sleeping computer.
No turning back now, so she slides the chair out from the desk and sits down. She blows the dust away from the top of the laptop and opens it. The light from the computer surrounds her, encircling her and the keyboard in the same glow. She brings up the blank post page for her blog and stares at all the white space, wondering what to do with it. An optimist would see a blank canvas, eagerly awaiting creative inspiration. A pessimist would see the same blank canvas as taunting and intimidating, daring her to be creative. And the optimistically pessimistic person has great hopes for the blank canvas, but struggles to fill it, doubting herself along the way.
But the blog has become a great link to friends who live far away and to new friends who live even farther, so she can’t just stop completely. Taking breaks is helpful, a breather to focus on other blank canvases ready to be worked on. She remembers her New Year’s Resolution was to find balance—balance the many tasks she needs to do with the projects she wants to do.
Then the reluctant blogger begins to type. More light filters through the blinds, and the sound of clicking and tapping fills the once empty room.