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"There's nothing more depressing than a blank page," Dan said from
his slumped position in front of the computer.
Casey didn't look up from the legal pad he was scribbling on. "Two things.
Number one, technically you're facing a blank screen, not a blank
page."
"Thank you, Captain Detail."
"Number two, a blank page is the most hopeful thing there is."
Dan blinked at the computer screen. Still blank. "No, I'm pretty sure it's
the most stressful thing there is."
"Think about it." Casey tapped his pen against the page in front of
him. "Look at all this empty space. And what's going to fill it?"
"Bad jokes about the North Carolina game?"
"Words, Danny." Casey grinned. "Our words. Yours and mine. Nouns,
verbs, modifiers." He flipped back to a page full of his slanting scrawl
and displayed it. "Maybe they're award-winning, maybe they're crappy, but
we put them on paper. We're telling stories with them. Do you know how many
people can't even begin to do that? And even of the people that can--"
"Nobody can do it like us," Dan finished, grinning back at him.
"So let's write."
"All right." Dan turned back to the computer. "Casey?"
"Yes?"
"I still can't think of anything."
He ducked the pen Casey threw at him, which put him directly in the flight path
of the legal pad. "Ow!"
--the end--