There Is Always a Way

It happened every day. I would sneak my notebook into Starbucks during any moments of free time I had. Armed with a shot of caffeine, I would stare directly at my paper and sink my pen into its flesh. I wanted something to appear in style. I wanted to write a story just as wonderful or perhaps better than my first book. But I remained blocked.

In my high school days I brushed off the idea of free-writing because I wanted to "write something good." This worked for a while: I won an award for "Most Original Short Story" from Write On! Books; gained experience interviewing; wrote and sold a speech for a private event; and found a publisher for Of Cabbages and Kings or The Letters of Abby Prince. Then about a year after I graduated from Mountain View Academy in Seattle, I experienced an intense artist's block and felt extremely depressed.

My journal entries diminished (though I am grateful they survived). I didn't know what to research. Maybe my academics and extracurriculars had been so effective that I felt constantly motivated and my pen stayed fresh and juicy. So I decided to take my frustration out on a counselor I knew. I am glad he listened. Then he had this killer advice that he said may work for me.

"In the old days, teachers rapped on your knuckles with a ruler if you wrote badly."

I laughed. Although I took creative writing and studied The Gregg Reference Manual in high school, I couldn't envision someone actually being punished for temporary failure.

Larry whipped out a pen and started scribbling on some pages I had pulled out. "Is that an I or is that an I?" He said.

"Erm," I got stuck. "Actually, they're both I's. Cursive I's.

Larry shook his head. "Only one is acceptable. See? Some researchers believe that the kinesthetic flow of your hand when you form letters in cursive actually stimulates that creative part of your brain. That may be why old-fashioned schools were so strict on kids for their penmanship."

Wow, this was definitely different.

"Just try it. Like, you can change the thoughts you're thinking just by writing. And cause new ones. That's the theory."

So I did. I wrote a page on why I was writing, and discovered that I could pour out my own words more smoothly in cursive. Was I free to write because I knew no one could read my handwriting? Actually, I think it was a combination of two things: somebody believed my work was worth the effort and that I was literally an artist. I had awakened a raw creative power with the kiss of the pen and paper.

Writing is still a process. Sometimes it is difficult for me. But one promise I made to myself is that my writing will always be original. Even at the risk of writing something lame or unpublished, I will choose my own words consciously but liberally. I can edit and ask for criticism, but I know my story is mine.