A Writer Reborn

Once upon a time, there was a student who liked books. From "Wally McDoogle" to C.S. Lewis' Space Trilogy, "The Lord of the Rings" to the "The Elements" series, dictionaries to encyclopedias; everything was fair game. This student also deluded himself into thinking he too could write books. He tried authorship. He stumbled and fell, but for years he kept trying. Finally this student surrendered to what he perceived as his inevitable fate; he put all his effort into learning about computers.

The years rolled by, and this student graduated from high-school, and went off to university. He enrolled in a variety of courses, which in the second semester of his first year, included a Communication class on writing. There he encountered a book called "Write & Learn", which he found to be written in a friendly and unpretentious manner. The advice he read therein went contrary to all that he'd been taught in the darker days of his schooling, and he quickly put these new ideas to practice. Immediate gains in productivity appeared, and plans began to come to mind to go beyond these baby steps. A spark had reignited the flame for his love of writing, and he set out to conquer all forms. Poetry flowed like wine.

The advice from "Write & Learn" is certainly unorthodox, mostly in its presentation. The most important point the author made was 'write before writing'. Perfectionism is a beastly black hobbit hole of devouring doom. Simply pumping anything out onto paper is making headway in a project. Even if nothing written is actually used, it helps order the writer's thoughts, and it adds to writing experience. Like any musician, a writer must force himself to practice even when skill is just emerging (and still far from blossoming fully). To halt practice is just like a fetus that has stopped developing; it will be stillborn. That's something we'd like to avoid.

And now, let us put to use this concept. We must 'practice what we preach', after all. I present to you impromptu poetry:

Marshmallows float in the sky

No one bothers to ask why.

So beautiful; makes me cry.

The Celldweller will now fly.

Hybrid life, humanity bereft

Of the old things of which nothing's left.

Sights and sounds through alien eyes;

Inhuman empires slowly rise.

Slaves to technology,

Such incongruity.

Lusty fortuity

Kills all that's good in me.

And now, The National with Peter Mansbridge...