The Writing Process

Three years ago in my Creative Writing class, our first exercise was to write a paragraph or two about anything. In a second paragraph, we were to take the opposite approach from the first. For instance, if one sounded "dark," then we were to make the next sound "light." But they both had to be about the same scene/subject.

Since I have jabbered incessantly about being a college student yet neglected to post any "academic" writing, I thought I might share a little something from my collection. In addition to the first two "steps" of writing my paragraph, I've also included a poem I later wrote from taking the process even further. Not that writing poetry from paragraphs is technically a "step", but it was something I did anyway.

The paragraph/poem was written in the spring of 2003 when I was pregnant with my son and teaching junior high special education. I think my writing defines the experience quite well, if I do say so myself!

First Hour, Step #1

Flipping the switch adds to the luminescence already radiating from my very presence this morning. The window shades are drawn, yet a bright ray joins me through the translucent pane of a stately wooden door giving way to my entrance. I flutter across a wooden cloud and assume position behind my station. With a careless toss of my teal tote, I take the throne of royalty. Within minutes, I am Queen. My workers filter into the hive with a gentle buzzing that is honey to my ears:

“I need to sharpen my pencil.”
“I forgot my book.”
“Guess what happened to me last night!”
“Do you like rap?”

The sweetness of innocent youth emanates. My purpose here is golden, and no other glory competes with the grandeur of this particular day. Class begins…

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First Hour, Step #2

As I force myself into the stale darkness, I awkwardly fumble for the silver plated switch that has become the initial act of a dull routine. The light intrudes my thoughts, though my swollen eyes have yet to comprehend the meaning of what lies before me. I slip on a paper gone astray on the waxy wooden floor, curse, and gather myself. I grudgingly take place opposite a dusty black board that seemingly mocks my own filthy attitude. I drop my bag and sink into the dark blue chair. Momentarily, the drone of voices invades my appreciated emptiness:

“I need to sharpen my pencil.”
“I forgot my book.”
“Guess what happened to me last night!”
“Do you like rap?”
The incessant noise damages my thoughts even more so than the unwelcome brightness that has previously taken place. I find the rogue causing the most disturbances to be a gnat that I keep swatting, yet never hit. His beady eyes are fixed upon my expression as he continues to chat in a high-pitch with nobody in particular. I do not give him the satisfaction of engaging in this pre-pubescent conversation; rather, I keep aiming my mental swatter as he starts darting around the room and preparing for the day. The shrill blare of the daily bell immediately brings us both to where we do not want to be. Class begins…

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"First Hour"

Flipping the switch adds to the luminescence
already radiating from my very presence.
The window shades are drawn as I enter again,
a bright ray joins me through the translucent pane.
A stately wooden door gives way to my entrance
as I spring on through with a purposeful eminence.
Assuming position behind my station
I prepare for this day of education.
With a careless toss of my teal tote
and a straightening up of my paisley coat,
I take the throne upon my hive,
awaiting the minds to come alive.
Within this moment, I am the Queen
as workers filter onto the scene.
I glance about my little dears,
who gently buzz into my ears:

"Don't give me that look!"
"I forgot my book."
"I need a nap!"
"Let's listen to rap!"

The emanating sweetness of innocence resonates
As I pick up my plans, my chalk, and PaperMates.
My purpose here is golden and I am satisfied,
for I hold a key to what lies inside.
A blaring bell suddenly brings cessation
of all the intricate conversation.
Eyes fixed upon me enable my power.
Class begins with this very first hour.