Imagination Turns Empty Pages Into Living Worlds

Turn blank pages into bold landscapes; imagination is a workshop of action — Margaret Atwood
From Absence to Possibility
Atwood’s image of “blank pages” begins with a quiet kind of emptiness: the untouched space where nothing has been decided yet. Rather than treating that emptiness as intimidation, she reframes it as raw material, a starting point that invites transformation. In this sense, the blank page is not a void but a frontier. From there, the phrase “bold landscapes” suggests that what emerges can be expansive, textured, and navigable—something you can move through. The point is not merely to fill space with words, but to build an environment of meaning that didn’t exist before, turning uncertainty into a place with shape and direction.
Imagination as Craft, Not Mist
By calling imagination a “workshop,” Atwood pulls it down from the clouds and puts it among tools, benches, and practice. A workshop implies effort, repetition, and technique—less a lightning bolt and more a site where ideas are assembled, tested, and improved. That shift matters because it makes creativity accessible: you don’t wait for imagination; you work it. This view echoes the pragmatic spirit behind many artists’ routines, where the “muse” shows up after the work begins rather than before. In other words, imagination is depicted as something you can enter daily, not something you either possess or lack.
The Bridge Between Thought and Deed
Atwood’s most provocative move is to define imagination as “a workshop of action.” Imagination is often dismissed as escapism, but here it is positioned as a precondition for doing: before you build, argue, organize, or invent, you must first picture what could be. Action becomes the external expression of an internal rehearsal. Consequently, imagination is not opposed to practicality; it is practicality’s beginning. Even small choices—drafting a difficult email, planning a new habit, or apologizing well—often depend on imagining outcomes, anticipating feelings, and selecting words before any outward step is taken.
Bold Landscapes and Moral Terrain
A “landscape” is not just scenery; it’s terrain with routes, obstacles, and consequences. That metaphor hints that imaginative work includes ethical and emotional mapping—learning what a decision might cost, who it might harm, and what it might heal. Literature frequently serves this function by letting readers experience lives they have never lived, effectively expanding their moral vocabulary. Building on that idea, Atwood’s line suggests that writing and reading can be acts of civic preparation. By traveling through imagined worlds, people practice empathy and judgment in a low-risk space, and that practice can later inform real choices in high-stakes situations.
Revision as the Workshop’s Daily Labor
If imagination is a workshop, then drafts are prototypes. The first attempt rarely produces a “bold landscape” in full detail; it produces materials that can be rearranged and refined. This is why revision is not a sign of failure but a sign that the workshop is functioning—measuring, cutting, reshaping, and improving. Moreover, the discipline of returning to the page mirrors how action works in life: plans adjust, feedback arrives, and the original vision becomes more precise through iteration. The imagination that matters is not only the one that dreams, but the one that returns, rebuilds, and finishes.
Turning Pages Into Places You Can Enter
Ultimately, Atwood links creativity to agency. To “turn blank pages into bold landscapes” is to assert that inner life can become shared reality—through stories, designs, strategies, or conversations that move others. What begins as private imagining can become a public space where people meet, argue, and recognize themselves. Seen this way, the quote is an invitation: treat imagination as a working room where the next step is forged. The page may start empty, but the act of imagining—methodical, physical, repeated—can produce worlds sturdy enough to walk into and actions clear enough to take.