One time, my Creative Writing (grade 12) and English teacher, Mr. Metcalfe instructed us to "start writing".
He was a phenomenal teacher, and I remember more of his classes in that creative writing course than I remember from ALL my teachers combined. He, unfortunately, retired that year, leaving his legacy with my graduating class.
So, as I sit here with a million thoughts and yet thoughtless, I am reminded of that lecture that day.
"Start Writing", he said.
We all sat there, dumbfounded. We didn't know WHAT to write about. I mean, in a course where EVERY DAY he told us to "write about your favourite family member" or "write an addition to a Robert Frost poem" or "write a sonnet" or "write a letter to a child about death"...
in a day where we arrive and he says, "Start Writing", we all just sat there, looking at him.
Smiling, he said, "I just want you to write ALL the things that come into your head. No matter if it's a poetic or nostalgic piece, or nothing at all, just write it down. If your thought changes, change what you're writing to match. Just. Start. Writing."
So, we did.
It was really a fun, memorable lesson. A lesson that sometimes our "muse" can daydream, too, and sometimes what's in our heads makes perfect sence. And other times, our thoughts can flee with the wind.
For ES and GEEs, I wrote this:
Whatever you want to say,
say it so the man down the street can dance when the moon is only square.
And if you try to run,
don't step on your shadow's heels cuz he'll cry and so will I.
How come
winter only comes at the ends of years
but summer lasts the whole time?
I think if you drink 'till you see straight
and swing 'till you can feel yourself gliding even when you're laying in bed,
then you'll finally dream your wishes but wish you'll dream
of other, more inportant things instead.
And that's how I feel when I walk away from you.
I still feel your arms around me, but sometimes I can't sleep
because the motion is kinda making me sick.
I don't think you listen to me with your whole toe
like all those dumb poems try to analyze me into doing.
You need to learn to give up
on piddlely little card games.
I went for a trip tomorrow,
met a dog with one eye pointed at you
and the other eye was looking at you.
He 'moo'ed, and I kissed his hoof.
So, today, I challenge you bloggers, you journal-keepers, you daydreamers, to just Start Writing. To think nothing about what comes out on the page, and just let the beautiful English language flow out of your head. You may want to share with your readers, and perhaps you may just be surprised at what you're truly thinking.
5 comments:
I remember when you wrote that and read it to me later!! I have a correction to this note though, Mr. Metcalfe ended up staying for ONE more year, and I got him as a grade 11 student taking English 12 second semester. So, his legacy was left with ME. Nark nark. I remember his teaching method better than all of my teachers too.
that was AWESOME! and I too remember my creative writing teacher fondly! I guess my gift of "gab" transposes to paper as well, cuz I never seem to have a problem writing. In fact, I HAVE to "just write" in order to make sense of the chaos in my head :)
Really, Kiki? I didn't know he came back! I just remember singing at his 'farewell' with you and CC. What did we sing?!
we sang Lovin that Man of Mine...lol
Loved yours! Just start writing? It'll probably be good therapy right?!
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