How to Be a Writer (In 10 Seconds or Less)
“Songs of Change” PART 1***
“1 new unread message” falls from the top of my phone screen. I click, fast . It reads: “…Would you be interested?” I hesitate, typing, deleting, and typing again. “Yes,” I type quickly and press send before I have time to second guess my answer, my abilities. This was the first real postcollegiate commission I’d had for my writing, the first where I was working with someone and writing for them, about them. Within the week, we had a Zoom meeting to work out the details. I was nervous, thrilled, and ridden with imposter syndrome. So, I did what I do best: ask questions. If you want to write something that embodies a person, you’ve got to first understand them and, more importantly, understand their feelings. What better way to find out than to ask? So I rattled off, “What are three words to describe yourself…to describe your present…past…what you hope for your future…what are you scared of…nervous about…excited for?” And sit there while they think, for as long as they need, letting the silence do the searching for you. As the interview progressed, I wrote down these three words in my notes:
Nostalgia Uncertainty Wonderment
These words represented how I perceived the client’s feelings toward their changing life.
I also wrote down another set of three:
Resilient Smart Tough
Everything in which they encompassed, their most shiny and forward characteristics.
As the call ended, I ran these words by them for approval. We ended our chat with an enthusiastic goodbye that remarked: “watch her get this done ten minutes after we end this call.” You should know better than to give me a challenge. I was already off to the races.
Within the hour I had completed the cycle.
And here’s the breakdown of the first poem, line by line:
Remembering Where:
I knew the first word I wanted to focus on was nostalgia. We’d both attended the same college, so I knew what images might spark memories from campus. I tried to envision nostalgia in my mind. When I closed my eyes I saw warm, dim lighting, candles, slow and old music, a wooden living room and a rainy night. Now, I’ve got to put it on campus. Where would I find that scene, where would I feel it? In the streetlights.
Streetlights flicker on,
As the sun says its goodbye,
Goodbye
But nostalgia always has this longing feeling to it too, like a season changing, something you can’t control. Like leaves falling, or a river freezing over.
The leaves are all but gone,
When the river stops its cry,
In the interview, there wasn’t necessarily sadness for no longer being on campus, but a hope to never lose the memories there, to hold on to them forever. So I thought of something that holds on to memories all its life: trees. The willow particularly represents new beginnings, and the wisdom it takes to venture into them.
And I find myself wishing
The willow wouldn’t weep a sigh
But instead that I could keep it
To wring dry
Oftentimes, nostalgia keeps us captive. When we become nostalgic what are we really doing? Wanting to return? Wanting to remember? Wishing things were different? Or simply searching out the known? I wanted to explore that idea and capture it, the twists and cunningness that nostalgia can bring, but also the hope that it has to remind us that times worth remembering can happen again. Staying on my tree theme, I decided to dig deeper into this image of the willow and the changing seasons. And you can always count on me to personify nature whenever possible.
Find me there
Woven between the branches
In the hair
Of autumn’s sweet romances
Blow a kiss for me and I’ll say hello to second chances,
Find me there
Remembering where
Finally -as I usually do- I titled this poem after the last line: “Remembering Where.”
Remembering Where
Streetlights flicker on,
As the sun says its goodbye,
goodbye
The leaves are all but gone,
When the river stops its cry,
And I find myself wishing
The willow wouldn’t weep a sigh
But instead that I could keep it
To wring dry
Find me there
Woven between the branches
In the hair
Of autumn’s sweet romances
Blow a kiss for me and I’ll say hello to second chances,
Find me there
Find me there
Remembering where
***To read part two of this segment, subscribe to my newsletter and watch for an email next Friday where you'll read of the second poem's creation.
