I have a special way of writing and it begins by not writing. I slouch in my seat like an old man far far away eating biscuits and drinking tea while reading old dailies on the side of the beach. After I have settled into my slouching position, I begin to look at the Hindu writings on one of my wrist beads. I remember that an old friend bought it for me and I am looking forward to the time my friend dies so that the bead will mean more. The thing with looking at my wrist is I always have two beads on and I have never remembered how I got the second one but each time, I still end up thinking of how I found it. I probably stole it. Sometimes, I would stop looking and I will remember: a movie, a dance, a time, my exes or some important nothings. When I remember, I feel. I feel a longing for something special to come from me. I wonder why I wasn’t hung on a cross or shot fifty times to eventually survive or even be dead only to speak from afterlife.
\nI sat in the frigid class, sleeves up and folded, staring at my beads thinking of creative ways to tell my professor I write by not writing. I stared at the white projector board, tainted with too much info, and acted like I was reading it. However, I read that board with only one hope: there was no way in hell my professor would know I had nothing to write.
\n“You have 300 words: write a scene that shows you at work writing.” I hated the prompt. I write because I always have nothing to write and he had the audacity to prompt me. I was irritated because nobody died in the freaking prompt. There was no talk of afterlife or my martyrdom on a rugged cross.
\nI have this special way of writing and it ends by eventually writing. All I need to do is to sit my butt long enough in a chair. I had sat in the class for good amount of time, rested my heavy arms on the fine wood needing polish, ignored the curious eyes of my professor. I had done all that remembering, looking and feeling before I just wrote of how this story all began.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I have a special way of writing and it begins by not writing. I slouch in my seat like an old man far far away eating biscuits and drinking tea while reading old dailies on the side of the beach. After I have settled into my slouching position, I begin to look at the Hindu […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":243,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-580","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/580","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/243"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=580"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/580\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":587,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/580\/revisions\/587"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=580"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=580"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=580"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}