This is a blank page. Or, it was, a moment ago, anyway.
Blank pages have always kind of terrified me, actually. It's like standing at the edge of a precipice, staring down into the void — not knowing what's down there or how long it might take to reach the bottom. I usually stay clinging to that cliff uncomfortably long.
I wonder how many other writers feel this way. (I wonder how many writers feel the opposite — compelled to write because they have to fill that same void.) It is, in any case, probably why editing appeals so much more to me — no blank pages, just spaces filled with others' words & ideas for me to revel in. But I hope my own experience with that fear makes me a better editor, in any case — that I never forget what the writer is risking when she jumps, with me holding a line that might help her get back.
This is a long way of saying that Crunchable is starting to turn over a new page, too. There's been too much blank space around here. It won't all change at once, and it might not go according to plan. But it's time to jump.