Strength Through Repetition
The page isn’t the enemy. The page is the gym. You don’t show up to look good. You show up to build grip. Form. Force. Reps. That’s how the voice gets real.
I used to stall at the blank page.
Not for lack of ideas — but because of the gap.
The gap between what I felt and what I could articulate.
Between how I think and how I thought I was supposed to sound.
Between the mess in my head and the polished bullet points I thought people expected.
But the thing about the blank page is: it doesn’t care.
It won’t judge you. It won’t edit you.
It just waits.
So I started showing up.
Bad outlines. Messy metaphors.
False starts. Fragmented voice.
Again. And again. And again.
And somewhere in the repetition, something changed.
Practice builds callouses.
Not the kind that make you numb —
the kind that let you grip.
Now, the blank page isn’t a threat.
It’s a surface.
A sparring partner. A gym.
I don’t need to know exactly where I’m going.
I just need to move.
Write into the signal.
Sort by feel. Shape by friction.
I don’t write because I have the answer.
I write because it’s how I tune my thinking.
It’s how I learn the edges of my voice.
It’s how I remember that clarity lives on the other side of articulation.
The page is still blank.
But I’m not scared of it anymore.
