It began with one.
A simple blot on the parchment. Yet even that much made his quill shake. He had dreamt of this moment for what felt like a lifetime, formed and re-formed the words in his brainpan. He’d seen the thoughts prance in dreams and mix the myriad mortal moments into mush. So now, to hesitate on the beginnings of greatness?
Could there be no worse insult to his trade? To her, whom this dedication was written to?
It would not be so.
Finally, the line was drawn from the congealing ink as the poet began his trade “To thee, my beloved Beatrice…”
It happens to all of us, somewhere in our hobbies or careers. That dreaded moment when the words seem to get lost between brain and paper. So how do you overcome that? Well, here’s how the process seems to work for me most of the time.