Ah, the urge to write. I don't really want to write like this, however. I want to write ... more than this. I want to write fiction. I don't know exactly what. I've many stories I could work on. I could start something brand-new. But instead, I find myself paralyzed by a curious indecision, as if I don't know what to say, or don't know how to get there. As if I'm afraid to open up that file, to look upon words that have gone before, or upon the perfection of blank white space. I don't know why I want to write some new fiction so badly, yet cannot persuade myself to take even the first steps toward doing so.