Professionally speaking, I’m intrigued by the number of new writing projects that await. When did I get ushered into the world of freelancing, book proposals, and creative writing pursuits? This is more a rhetorical question; one I ask myself because I find it curious how I got here: Broadcast journalism led the way. Got my first gig as a writer and associate producer for a television station while still earning my degree. That led to a producer/writer position post-graduation. Script and promo writing were fun–especially when I was told to write my own scripts that I would also deliver on-camera as a sometime host.

Writing, in all its forms, has always been a passion. My mom still has the first stories and picture layouts I used to create as a six-year-old conjuring up fantasies of how my life might play out–sprawling mansion, massive pool, and other bigger than life images.  [Still dreaming.] The creative urge to write has been embedded within me for as long as I have a memory. I’ve tried other creative outlets: dancing, acting, drawing… while I didn’t suck at any and I was enthusiastic about all, none had the ability to light a fire within me like the simple writer’s craft. 

When the world once gave writers the luxury of choosing between mediums–pad of paper and a pen or a desktop and a keyboard–I always chose the tried and true. I grew up writing like most kids with a pen, pencil, crayons, magic markers, and a blank piece of paper. In fact, my first book was written by hand, by me, on several yellow, legal-size pads of paper and then, only after complete, did I craft the manuscript on a computer. 

The instant connection of the thought, scratching the paper in front of me with a word, and then another, and yet another, is immediate, tangible, and not digitized. I don’t have to meld with my interface to connect my thoughts outside of my head. And when those words build into sentences, morph into paragraphs, grow into pages, massive enough to be parsed into chapters, [uh, she sighs] there’s really nothing like it. Seeing all those handwritten words, thoughts, and emotions that came out of myself, brought to life as a narrative in that most awesome moment of self-reckoning, is sometimes surreal but always the creative payoff. This is life-affirming stuff if you’re a writer–part of a life’s purpose revealed.  

The pen sure is my pal. And if it’s purple… bonus… it’ll make me smile. 

Copyright © 2019 María Felicia Kelley