Nouns Before Verbs #2

The Audio Version

What happens when I write? First and foremost, I’m doing what I like to do. I’m satisfied. I’m content. I’m at peace. Whether I’m good at it or not is for others to judge.

But regardless of that judgement, I’ll continue to tap away at my keyboard and continue to produce words, putting nouns before verbs, embellishing with adjectives and adverbs in what I hope is a pleasing sequence and rhythmic cadence.

There is also a grain of meaning in that output. That is the purpose of my efforts. Otherwise, it is simply noise. I confess to a certain pride in what I do. I am not well educated in the art, but rather, well versed. I’ve been at it a long time and while I’m not certain that practice makes perfect, it should at least make it adequate.

I’m currently listening to a TED Lecture by Sir Ken Robinson. He is speaking about many things, but mostly about education, what that means (or should mean) and the process of creativity. He stresses that teachers and innovation are the keys for eager, receptive and productive students. He also stresses that Testing and Streaming are antithetical to the idea of education. Those practices and concepts stifle growth, limit imagination and produce bored, disinterested students.

I developed my interest in writing through a happy coincidence of serendipity and a sort of osmosis from a few gifted teachers. I was directed to the habit of writing because I seemed to lack an aptitude for anything else, save for music. I absorbed my passion for writing from a high school teacher, Mr. (Rollie) Detcher and a university TA, Brian Hepworth. Both of these educators gave me free reign to explore, to dare, to challenge accepted norms. With their permission and encouragement, I stepped outside curriculum and convention to experiment with the possibilities of language. In the process I made many mistakes. But I have them to thank, both for my missteps and my successes.

Writing also requires a degree of boldness, to believe (or imagine) that what I say has any significance. I dare to be laughed at for my arrogance. I stand, arms outstretched, ready, however unwillingly, to accept the scorn and derision of a hostile (or worse yet, indifferent) audience. Then pick up my shattered ego and risk it all again.

What more could I ask?

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This has been a Piperguy48 production
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