I couldn’t stand writing in college. The topics irked me, made me loathe the long nights, catalyzed my procrastination and left me with an empty feeling of accomplishment. I knew my products would pass when they went under the professor’s pen, that wasn’t the issue. I took pride in my pieces; yet felt out of control, dictated, as if my talents and nocturnal keyboard mashing sessions were trivial, their sole purpose to mint a check mark on an assignment list next to my name.
In the years since San Jose State I neglected to write. I’d digest article after article on sports sites, I’ve engulfed books at an alarming rate, no sooner finishing one than scrambling to snatch up the next. And as rewarding as reading renowned content can be, something lacked at the end. I felt for, as much time as I had spent absorbing the thoughts, beliefs, practices and disciplines of another, I wasn’t giving enough time to myself. My mind churned and processed many thoughts during this period. In the gym, on the ice, in an airplane, I created and connected many a concept and idea, yet ignored the satisfaction that comes with putting your word into record. And I largely felt that I was wasting my own ends to my means.
Since starting this blog a mere three months ago in a tiny bedroom on the fourth floor of a townhouse in San Jose, my interest, passion and inspiration for crafting written pieces continues to bloom. It’s become an outlet for me. A drainage pipe for the smorgasbord of mental material I produce, ponder and preside over on a daily basis. You know the feeling you get when you finish a conversation, or debate, or even an argument and as you walk away you feel “Damn. I should have said….” Or “Why did I say that…”, of course you do. Well writing never sentences me to those regrettable thoughts. With writing I feel empowered in my thoughts and unchained in the pressures of conveying them correctly. Every blank template is my canvas, I am in control, and the world and those in it produce an imminent stream of delectable material for me to use and will continue to do so as long as I am able to exist.
As the number of essays I produce grows it’s easy to see that Sports captivates a large portion of my literary affection. Perhaps it is because I’m familiar with the athletic realm. I am who I am in large thanks to athletics and all the trials and tribulations that accompany the passion. But the greatest attraction for myself in sport is the stories of those who play, which coach, who cheer and who exist within confines of the competition coliseums. If the spectrum of emotion is a dartboard, sport is a shotgun blast. It hits everything. Anything you seek, any human-interest story, any trait of human nature, controversy, query or success you can find within athletics and those who partake. I love that. I love writing about that. Of course I do not intend to limit or restrict my subject supply chain only to sport, as the world we survive in daily, if watched closely, will never fail to provide insatiable article fodder for even the most inept and closed author. But Sport is my muse; it knows my weaknesses and reels me in to its plots and cultures time after time.
I did not create this blog with intended goals or objectives. When I feel like writing, I write. I have no deadline, am the responsibility of no one, and have the freedom to directly dictate what I feel, think and forecast directly into my own words, exactly when I want to do it. But, as I have not only written, but continued to read more and more authors, particularly those with similar, essayist writing styles the natural competitor and prideful fire within me have continued to throw logs on the smoldering ash in my furnace, pushing me to improve and expand my literary skill sets. I want to be better, I make no secret that when I invest myself in something, and I do it with the intended purpose to consistently improve, to what ends are of no importance, as long as my progress remains positive. I love to study those of high esteem in their fields. The champions, the titleholders, the Pulitzers, the Nobel’s, for there is so much captivation and interest flowing from these great people. The hockey player within me would sit at NHL games, transfixed on the goaltenders, from how they strap their pads, tie their skates and snap their masks to their skating styles, save selection and on and on. I enjoy playing goalie, these guys are better than me, what can I do to be like them. This was my typical thought process. And the same holds true in my newfound writing interest. Now when I read, I analyze, I study, and abstract from the texts the certain traits, literary birth marks, and styles that have propelled these authors to the upper echelons of their crafts. I find such methods exciting.
Tonight I read a story on the late, legendary Coach John Wooden, written by world-renowned sports writer Rick Reilly. While only a couple pages in length, this essay portrayed flawlessly to the reader on a sincere, poignant, and touching cross section of the life of the masterful collegiate basketball coach. But it didn’t focus on basketball. Reilly does an impeccable job of creaming away the glitz and flash of this mans career that if allowed to star, could so easily masque and conceal the true methods and behaviors that made Wooden, Wooden. From his simple mid-western upbringing, through his coaching methodologies to his incredible love for his wife, Reilly, in so few words, absolutely captures and conveys the greatness of this man for all to read. Basketball made us know John Wooden, but it didn’t make him great, his morals, disciplines and ethics did that all on his own. But my point is this. Reilly, through his writing, captured and infused so much heart, meaning and sincerity in so little. Via the power of written word. This is why writing is great, why it has withstood the sands of time, the technology revolutions, the I-generation, because it is inimitable.
Writing is possibly the purest form of communication in existence. Consequently, for myself, is why it has become so addicting. It takes what you invest, records for you to remember, and if allowed, reveals and parades it for others to enjoy, critique or disagree with. It is a solid form, more so than a conversation, or an image, its meanings and motifs are distinct and recognizable and because of this its readers are able to digest and enjoy the fruits of its harvests with relative ease and simplicity. I have found an outlet in writing, a socket to plug into the countless volts of opinions, thoughts and emotion I produce daily. Moving forward, progressing, I aim to continuously improve, absorb and enhance my literary capabilities. The art of the written word has never been more enjoyable to me. If you have given me the compliment of reading some of my blogs, I thank you and encourage you to stay close, as I vow to invest myself continuously in striving to create more meaningful, effective and interesting pieces on all the worlds delicacies.
No comments:
Post a Comment