Writing With Abandon

If a writing teacher were to come up to me right now, 8:17pm on a Tuesday night, 28th slice of 31, ask me the magic words: “How’s it going?”

If it were I in the writer’s seat, pen in hand, notebook open before me, I would reply: “Not well.”

“Not well?”

“I can’t think of anything to write today. I’m plumb out of ideas.”

“What tools do you have for generating ideas?”

“I know, I know. Think of places and people and memories close to your heart. Make a list, choose one, write everything down. Use Ralph Fletcher’s ‘breathing in and breathing out,’ or a photograph, or an observation out my window. But I’m telling you, I’m stuck.”

“Let’s try. What’s one small moment from today, just an image, that gave you joy?”

Ugh, I’d think. Fine, I’ll try.

And close my eyes. And breathe. And think about what moment today was not hectic, not loud, not tiring.

“I’ve got it!”

“Great. Now write it down.”

Tuesday, March 28th

At recess, my student brought her notebook down to the playground, led me to a bench, and read me her poem about #middleschoolfeelings. Legs crossed on the bench, notebook open in her lap. Voice soft, yet powerful. We workshopped a few possible endings. She borrowed my pen to ink the chosen one. Then went off to share it with a friend.