Patricia Harrelson

When you grow up in a large family, it’s not unusual to look for a niche in the hope of establishing an identity uniquely your own. The niche or identity that I assumed as a child in a family of 5 kids was athlete or in today’s terms: the jock. My sister was the creative one–the writer, the musician, the artist, and to my way of thinking the free thinker. So I was well into my 40s before I allowed myself to write outside of the formal boxes of academic and technical pieces.

Around that time, I remember being surprised when a young colleague called himself a poet. He hadn’t even finished college, and yet his self-image allowed him a title that seemed evocative. At the same, a small delight found it’s way to my hands: a wonderful personal essay by another colleague. It was a touching piece about his parent’s wedding anniversary that brought tears to my eyes. Though these were minuscule events in the greater scheme of my life, the two incidents managed to break through the hard identity I held of myself as jock and technical writer. Suddenly in what felt like a recklessly unparalleled gesture, I signed up for a 6-week long creative writing workshop.

I was a nervous wreck on the morning of the first class quite certain I was going to be totally out of my element. When the teacher handed us velvety green wisteria pods and told us to hold, touch and study them intimately, I truly enjoyed the pregnant wonder of my pod. But when she told us to write about what we’d discovered, I shuddered with confusion. I was used to writing memos and curriculum and project plans. What could I write about a wisteria pod?

I finished that workshop and then signed up for a second session and later went on to attend numerous creative writing classes and workshops over the next few years, but it was a long time before my pen moved freely on the page confident that what poured forth would have merit and might even be juicy or touching or scary.

It’s no small feat to take a risk and forget how to “write right.” I’m still pushing the edges of my comfort zone, trying to squeak through locked doors and slide around monstrous hurdles.

Today, I’m undertaking the risky business of launching a blog about writing. There are many such blogs out there, some of which I read regularly and have listed in the blog roll to the right. I want to be part of the conversation they are having and add my perspective, be it complementary, unique, or challenging. My goal is to attract readers who are exploring their edges and who will jump in with daring comments that make all of us think.

Come back again for the 2nd post when I will write about my blog’s name–Editeyes–and consider the risks of naming.