A Writer's Process

By Anya Shroff

A Writer’s Process

by third year Audrey Hamm

Imagine this: a writer sits down at their desk to start a story.

The desk’s wood smells like an old library, an ode to the many books it's stored in its past. The mahogany wood is chipping off at one corner. A cup of hot tea sits off to the side, ready to provide for little moments of rest and revival when the writer’s hands become weary.

They sit, pen and paper in front of them, wondering how they should start off, what road to take. A snarky remark? A joke? An eloquent word or phrase? Something straightforward? Something ironic or something mysterious?

What I’ve come to know about myself and other writers is that there is magic behind storytelling. We stumble upon wondrous places, looking to be invited inside. We set our eyes on the clouds of imaginary realms that swirl around our heads, taking flight through the sky.

We think of characters; they can prance, skip, cry, or sing. They may be real people, they may be imaginary. And sometimes, they are a bit of both, or a bit of ourselves. 

And then a mad lib of sorts interrupts our thinking, an alphabet soup of alliterations, pretty-to-say words, catchy hooks, metaphors, and rhymes. We sort through, selecting what fits and what doesn’t. 

We see colors as feelings. We see instruments as symbols of change. We see the beauty and grace intricately woven into our lives.

We tell stories of our roots. We tell of moments we’ve shared with our loved ones. We tell of the ways in which time has changed us and that change has us undone. 

We touch on deep emotions and personal anecdotes. We touch on our insecurities, but also our strengths. 

Thoughts scatter to the surface like seashells on the sand, as we go along collecting. Sometimes one catches our eye, shiny and unique. But other times there is something sharp and poignant, heavy on our minds and necessary to express. 

The pen begs to run wild, and the paper begs to be decorated.