My Inner Writer

I hate the word productive. It was the word my mom used to tell me she was disappointed in my choices. “I wasn’t using my time in a productive manner” or “You should learn to knit, because that would be more productive,” she would say. And so, I have a constant need to feel like I have spent my time wisely and a fear of wasting my time; fear of procrastinating or vegging out, yet I cringe and feel a visceral hatred when I think about being productive. Which is where creative writing, poetry, short stories, and epic DND campaigns, come into play. Writing allows my mind to be free, to wonder, and to create in a way that I feel is productive, without actively thinking I am trying to be so. I didn’t realize writing was such an outlet, until after graduating high school, then it stopped feeling like homework.

I chose to pursue a Bachelor’s in English. The famous song from “Avenue Q” rang through my ears at this decision, “what do you do with a B.A. in English?” Hoping to avoid being told it wasn’t a “productive career path”, I added a concentration in Secondary Education, because while I wanted to study writing, I also wanted a job out of college. (I know plenty of people have successful careers with an English degree, but I also know the life of an artist, a writer, can be hard.) I took poetry classes, histories of literature, and eventually an archival class, leading the greatest creation of my young adult life: a hand-made, hand-written book of my poems. It is so precious and so pure, the epitome of my “productive” time, but what can I do with it, other than make it the center of my bookshelf. Even if I could work up the courage to sell it, or give it to someone else, who would even want it? If I made another one, would I be able to let it go? I am not sure.

So, I have a job teaching instead. It is a fulfilling job, stable with pretty good benefits, even if it makes me question my life choices. People always thank me and express “you do such good for the world”, yet I don’t think it is as fulfilling or great as all that. There is no way an archaic bureaucratic institution with little room for imagination or creativity would be able to captivate my being the way that writing does. I love the children. I love seeing their growth and passion. I love helping them explore writing and opening a creative door inside of them. But that is their passion, not mine. I am just here, bidding my time, in a safe and sustainable career, watching imaginary battles out the window during class.

With scribbled notes from those day-dream sessions, I spend my (limited) free time, days when I am not too tired to do more than watch tv or too behind on grading and planning, crafting far way worlds of myth and adventure. Puzzling together complex characters who still have pieces missing and need an adventure to find them. When overcome with emotions, I turn to poetry, immortalizing my pain or excitement in verse. Since college, it has been a few years, a couple of DND campaigns, a handful of short stories, dozens of poems, and one very unfinished novel, but I still have a dream. A dream that one day I will become a published author. One day I will make my imagination a source of income. And then maybe one day, finally having accomplished something that doesn’t seem any more real than one of my stories, I won’t hate the word productive so much.

Please enjoy a sample of my work; a few haikus that fit the feel of the theme. These were written during the 2020-2021 school year, after just returning to my school building to teach after many months of virtual teaching.