Blank (I)

by James Helps

I didn't write anything today, my mind was a blank, much like this blank page. Writer's block they call it. They being the people that talk about writing rather than do it, or those that may actually do it but only talk about it when they're not doing it; but when we talk about it in these terms, let us cut to the quick, nobody can physically write and talk at the same time. My mind was a blank. Wrote nothing today, except for this of course. Which I'll finish off tomorrow.


James Helps was born in a polluted backwater in the North-East of England in 1973. He has subsequently lived in Leeds, London, Paris, Barcelona and is currently residing in Berlin – where he reads, writes, drinks, loves, hates, dances, cries, walks, masturbates and occasionally paints.