Writing takes time. It takes clarity of thought and room for creative bursts of inspiration. It takes a willingness to dive into something often undefined, raw and revealing. It takes heart.
For the past three weeks or so, between team travel (SO overrated) and life itself, I’ve just been completely burnt out. It’s incredibly hard to write something you are proud of when you feel this way. As we near the end of the semester, I’m trying to remember why I write in the first place (yes, feel everything come full circle beginning with our semester kick-off Why I Write).
Why do I value expression through argument? As a kid, why did I beg my mom to read me to sleep? Why did I love listening to stories, no matter who was willing to tell them? What pushed me to love words? Who told me or showed me the power of writing and its potential influence on those around me?
But we all write, don’t we? We all have words and meaning to conduct. Why are my words important? Why is my writing unique?
Once again, I have no answers (seems to be a common theme in my blog reflecting life). All I know is that little Emily fell in love with one word and never looked back. It’s simultaneously beautiful and edgy. It’s bold and its conception was courageous.
The word is frindle.
In Andrew Clement’s 1996 novel Frindle, he tells the story of Nicholas Allen and a dictionary-worshipping teacher named Mrs. Granger. Allen creates a new word for the object most call a pen. Although it wasn’t in Mrs. Granger’s oversized dictionary, frindle was born.
I want to write like character Nick Allen – with ingenuity, creativity and a sprinkle of courage on top. I want to write with heart and believe in the work I create.
I want to finish my first semester as an official Writing Minor remembering why I became a Writing Minor: because I love frindles.