The “How I Write” event on Monday was so cool. Although I overslept and fumbled into my chair half an hour late, I was instantly drawn into the situation at hand. Were we all really surrounding a real-life, writer? I mean, was this really one of those zealous people who made their love for writing into a low-paid, non-academic career? One-by-one, everyone in my group asked Perry James, a blogger in his senior year at Michigan, a question. I was cringing in my seat. I already had so many questions, but I knew given the circumstances, I can only choose to ask one. So I thought of the least generic questions one could ask a writer and it was, “how do you organize your writings on your computer?” His response to my questions made me feel better about my messy pile of random documents stored on my computer. He was especially organized and obviously found meaning in keeping his system that way. However, based on the look on my peers, no one else seemed as interested in this question. But they don’t understand that my questions was not only asked with the purpose of my technological question. By hearing his response to my question, I felt more related to him. By having some of connection with what he said, I left the How I Write session feeling like I have a chance. A writer became less of a distant, impersonal figure or expectations. Everything felt possible.
And I think, every once in a while, it is important to constantly remind yourself that things are possible and even the most gifted, different, or unusual is human.
When I hopped over to the next table, I caught Laura Atkins, I think that was her name, stating, “Not every idea is going to become something”. This point is also important when it comes to writing, an act that depends on ideas to survive and grow. Writing is not self-sustainable without a constant flow of ideas.