Alfie Ingrahm knows it all. Seriously? Is the threat real? In the WebStory kind of domain, not at all. Or maybe for a short while, like the times we're living. But it's a fad, really. Nothing can be the genuine article. And yes, the pun is intended.
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Alfie Ingrahm

A white page.

Some call it blank and chances are, a wave of fear rises. Slowly at first and then as seconds go by, fear turns into panic; like a dough proves and expands into a loaf, it becomes much lighter and yet the very size of the thing overwhelms all limits. Heart rate accelerates as the future brioche goes into the oven and at its hottest, torrents of salty sweat run down disappointed cheeks, pass a now angry chin trembling with unwanted whatever, land on paper, on the notebook or worse, on the keyboard.

Do not underestimate the destructive powers of the blank page. That which should have stayed a mere emotion has grown into a feeling, something palpable strong enough to submerge, choke, drown, kill.

But kill what exactly? Kill the core of the whole process. Just like salt will kill yeast, which is the damnest thing when you think of it because try baking the most modest of brioches, or a plebeian bread, or even insignificant crêpes without salt and you won’t repeat the mistake twice. No Ma’am, no Sir. You won’t. Well, you might repeat the process but very elegantly and with the secular gesture that has sown many a seed, you’ll throw the bland bake – which should not be mistaken with blank bake, another topic altogether so let’s keep on tracks, shall we? – to the birds. Or the hedgehogs, or whatever living contraption happens to pass on the route taken by the saltless and failed attempt(s) at baking.

So, what is the core of the whole process? Ah. Right. Yeast. The Rising Agent. Transposed into something that has to do with the alphabet, and words, and chains of words, that could very well result in inspiration. No idea. Not a single one. Not a single traceable brain activity. Brain death, just like yeast death. Flat through and through.

But that is no longer an excuse nowadays. We now have access to Alfie Ingrahm, do we not? And if asked to come up with a most sophisticated and perfectly augmented piece on that redoubtable topic that is the white / blank page, what will Alfie Ingrahm deliver? `Deliver Us from Evil ‘no doubt.

`The best way to resist temptation is to yield to it`. Go back to your Portrait of Dorian Gray for further context. That does make sense. You yield, succumb, experience, get it over with, put it behind you. For better or worse, you’ve done it. Tick it off your list and for Pete’s sake, move on.

Well, Alfie Ingrahm may be in your address book, which is fine, really. No judgement there whatsoever. Your kids may resort to that kind of help for math homework for that matter. But Alfie Ingrahm will never be in my address book. Ever. Not when it comes to baking, not when it comes to the alphabet thingie. In both instances, I would never ever give up on the thrills, the delicious adrenalin, the intense and incomparable pleasure of defeating either the bread mold or the blank page. To me, a blank page is the door into the Infinite. Alfie Ingrahm will only reduce, limit, shrink. A stain. Not to mention create quite a commotion slowly turning into a scandal when used and abused in much wider -and possibly prestigious- printed circles.