I’m sure the people in my writing group will be sick of me reiterating this, but I do not write fiction. Never have, and really never was planning on it. When I examined the re-purposing assignment, it became clear that I was going to have to leave my comfort zone of academic argumentation and essentially try something new. While I initially planned to do a short story, a combination of a busy mind and too much caffeine led me to an entire night of reflection in bed. Somewhere around my fourth hour of trying to determine whether the bathtub above me is going to fall through the ceiling, because that crack may or may not be getting bigger, I decided to get up and do something productive. I have absolutely no idea what compelled me to write a poem, but it was probably the mixture of delirium from a lack of sleep and mold spores that may or may not be present in my foul living abode.
As I tried to write this poem, it became clear that I have serious issues with my patience, which is something I have tried to work on previously. I could not figure out why this was so difficult, there weren’t even that many words. Those seventy words took me just as long as a five page paper would have, and at the end I had no idea if it was good or utterly awful. But I think writing is very similar to lifting weights. Initially, it sucks and you’re sore and your brain hurts, and can be discouraging because results are not immediate. However, one must remain patient in the initial stages and continue to practice, (or continue to go to the gym) and results will eventually come. But if you can get over that hump, you will have “REAL strength” as my dad always says. Hopefully, as I writer and others in this class, can push through this initial stage of discomfort to eventually add another genre to our respective repertoires.