Calling all writers.
Dear Reader,
Dear writer,
I want you to write. When I say I want you to write, I don’t mean sit down and write some mediocre poem that stands up to the expectations of teachers and peers and loved ones who lie to you and tell you, “that’s good. No, really.” when they didn’t read the poem or prose or drama or journal entry or whatever you allow them to see. I want you to write like you never have before. I want you to write for hours on end. Yes, that’s an s that you see at the end of the word “hour.” Yes, it makes it plural. Yes, it means multiple. Take a day off if you need to. Sit alone, where no one can disrupt your thoughts. Turn off your phone. And write. Once you write poem after poem, story after story, wearing down the constant pressure of cliches and preconceived visions of how you “should” sound, the styles of old white men who dictate your structure, you will come to a place where you can write freely. This place, this state of mind is free of the outside forces that keep you away from the words inside of you. You think I’m telling you some insightful secret. I’m not. It is simply wearing down all things outside to reach something pure, something naked. write until your hand hurts, until the only sound you can hear anymore is the tap tap tap of a keyboard, until your mind threatens to overflow with your new-found thoughts, these words you never knew you contained. Write until you can’t write fast enough. Until your writing doesn’t sound like anyone, like anything, but you.
