[Feature image: Dwayne Bent]

The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. -Vladimir Nabokov, novelist (1899-1977)

Prompt: Your ink is only invisible till you decide its color. What will you write in today? Ink translucent as clean water. Ink more scarlet than blood. Ink you’ve made from crushed earth and tears.

And your page? Imagine writing on sand with a twig. Or on water with a feather. Imagine writing on a wall with blood.

Imagine that you don’t care if anyone ever reads this translucent writing. Imagine that everyone who reads finds your word. Imagine that you look back at this page twenty years from now. What would you want to find?

Here is the travel map that belongs to no one else. Here are coordinates never before found in a GPS. Here is a writer stepping out into the unknown. Here you are.

You might begin: Now this page is no longer blank… Write for at least twenty minutes before you read further.

Most of us have been educated to want to know the point of doing anything – before we do it. Only you know what writing with invisible ink on a blank page has given you. You may find the work to be complete. You may want to go back and bring it into more life. You may realize that it’s time for you to pay more attention to the details of the world and life through which you move. Take as long as you need to bring this writing into alignment with the fire in your heart. I’d love it if you sent your piece to the comments section of this post.