This is for anyone who has ever considered themselves a writer. Whether you are writing for movies, songs, plays, or just for the sake of writing, we have all experienced that moment of revelation.
I can remember being back in my first English college course. I have always thought that I was a good writer. It has always seemed to be one of my strong suits, so of course I was only right in thinking, “This class would be easy!” Boy was I wrong. I would spend hours upon hours compiling some of the best essays I have ever written only to find that I barely got a passing grade. “Are you serious?” I would ask myself. I could not understand how a piece I put so much work into could be viewed as anything less of an A on the grading scale.
It wasn’t until that autumn day in the Library. The professor told us we had thirty minutes to write an essay on whatever we wanted. I thought to myself, “What an easy assignment!” I was confident in my writing ability; in fact I was cocky in my writing skills. Time passed by and one by one students were handing in their papers. I looked down at my sheet and there before me lye a blank sheet of paper. I couldn’t think of anything. I was definitely experiencing writers block. Out of desperation I decided to make a mockery of this assignment and write my “Ode To a Piece of Paper”
Ode To a Piece of Paper
How dare I stain your body with my emotion?
Who am I to paint the words of my soul upon your canvas?
When we as people only take your presence for granted.
We walk all over you, burn you, ball you up and throw you away as if you were a piece of trash.
We never take the time to admire your beauty.
The way the azul line drape across your naked surface.
Your features fit so neatly and flawless.
You give off such a thin appearance but your potential, Oh the potential you encompass!
There is so much depth to be found on you, so much passion, so much love, so much hate, so many problems, yet so many solutions.
But we look at you as a novelty and not as a necessity.
You hold so many of our secrets and tell so many lies and yet we still confide in you.
You may not speak but my friend, you say volumes!
Why do we only value you when you’re green?
Why is it that when you don’t display what we want to see in you, we rip you apart?
But you’re always there, never expecting anything, never passing judgment, there to listen and to be heard.
You’re such a fragile piece of existence with many faces and many facets.
Sometimes it’s hard for me to read you and at other times your message is so clear.
So, in saying this, let me the first to admit that I need you.
I have always valued the relationship we’ve shared.
I want to apologize for the many times I’ve overlooked you, taken you for granted, and the countless times I’ve tried to replace you. You’ve always been special to me.
There is nothing in this world more romantic than lying beside you, on a dock, basking in the glory of the sun, and making sweet love in between……… your lines!
I quickly turned it in without giving it a second look. The next day in class as he handed out the papers I look at mine and there it was, the grade that I felt I deserved all this time, staring me in the face. The professor had given me a 100 percent and wanted to see me after class. After class he congratulated me on such a beautiful piece of paper and edged me to title it, its current title.
There I stood at the end of a whole semester and I had finally learned a lesson. No matter how good of a writer you think you are. No matter how much you prepare. The best stuff comes from the heart. When you are stripped of all stimuli and everything, leaving you with that pencil and sheet of paper, What masterpiece will you create?
