How I Write

I saw an interview with Gary Player, a retired professional golfer the other day on ESPN.  He made the point that because golf came so effortlessly for him, he never believed he owned it—he believed it was a gift from God.

When I worked at the lab many years ago, my coworkers frequently came to me with a request: they asked me to write letters for them. I wrote all kinds—everything from complaints to Con Edison to serious reports to CSEA and the EEOC. I would ask them what do you want the letter to say? And within a very short time I would write it. I would often hear how did you write that so fast? How did you know what to say? And I was always puzzled—I would think because you just told me and I wrote it down. It wasn’t hard.

Since I have been writing my blog I have been repeatedly hearing the following questions: How do you come up with one of these every day? How long does it take you to write?  Where do you get your ideas from?

The average blog post takes me about 15-20  minutes to write. I spend more time on the phone with my mother every day. I often just sit down at the computer and whatever thought pops into my head first, I just go with.  And I rarely know the resolution of the posting until I get there. It just comes out of me—like I am vomiting thoughts from my brain.

I see day to day events and conversations as stories just as I imagine a songwriter sees the world as songs. Every observation somehow has a lesson build within it—and even small thoughts become part of a mosaic. I connect the dots between life’s snippets.

For example: I noticed that my young dog Cosmo has started sitting on the fourth step of the staircase where he can see out on three sides of my house. It is a perch that Jasper, before his arthritis and blindness set in, would oversee his kingdom from. And I thought about The Lion King—Mufasa and Simba—and Mufasa surrendering his throne to his successor. And Elton John started singing in my head. Giraffes were bowing and birds flew overhead. Here in front of me was the circle of life—pride rock with Cosmo sitting on top.

I do not know if other people think that way. I am not sure if the scene that played out in my mind of my dogs and Disney’s Lion King is an oddity or a gift from God. All I know is that thoughts that consume my brain fall effortlessly on to the paper and it doesn’t take much time at all to organize them into sentences and paragraphs. And the story’s lesson seems to arrive when it is ready. I do no work for it to happen—it just does—as if it has an energy all of its own.

Via hearsay someone who does not appreciate my humor said she must have nothing better to do all day than write. I giggled when I heard that. I thought I only wish writing was something I could do all day—it beats housework—it’s way easier. Unfortunately writing is a mere coffee break of time for me. A short respite. Something I entertain myself with in between emptying the dishwasher and folding the clothes. It is either a peculiarity or a gift from God—that is for you to decide.