Writing a Blog

An idea pops to view. A thought about it expands the idea. Feelings may emerge on that same idea, and possible connections with other ideas that populate the mind. This is what a writer does. Ideas come and words follow. Inevitable. A lot of them. Boring to some, interesting to others. Utterly fascinating to a very few. Such is the life of a writer.

Becoming a writer is weirder. I didn’t set out to be one. I just allowed the mind to wander to many places. Nooks and crannies of life, thought, history, and experience. Even feeling, emotion, touch, smell, love, whatever. The urge to explain something. Everything? Wonder as allure to writing? Completing some unsaid cycle of making sense about the complex world surrounding each of us?

I cannot say the what or the why. I can only wonder about it all and let it happen. Let it happen. Just let it happen.

There were days and years when I didn’t give myself permission to write much of anything. Letters, yes. School assignments. A random poem. A random mini story, perhaps a short story? Eventually, my career required a lot of thinking and creating new programs. Experiences that mattered. Something we could do in a social setting that helped others understand the world more fully. Whether a play, film, concert or art exhibit, these programs held meaning. At many levels. Taken seriously, they engaged individuals enough to help them understand themselves better, their associates, classes, tasks, families and issues that drew their attention.

I wrote about all of those things. I helped others understand why some events needed to be created and produced intelligently on our large university campus. Help from other departments came reluctantly. Expertise from academic faculty came willingly. Funding became available from sources interested in what we could produce. In time, entire festivals and classes were created to do this work. Memos were critically important in earning support. Successful events followed which created future ones. A history of this emerged. Over time people understood the role of art in their community, and our campus community. Then we moved our attention to local events and talents. We did not bring the Chicago Symphony to campus; rather we bought blocks of tickets and gave them to students free. We even rented buses to take them to Symphony Hall until we were convinced most everyone knew how to find it on their own!

Play tickets were also bought from time to time. Opening the incredibly rich culture of Chicagoland to its citizens became an objective. It worked.

Soon a commuter campus of over 25,000 students, and 5000 faculty and staff became a community. This was not entertainment. This was education and culture and community rolled into one.

Writing about this was tangential. In other chapters of life such tangents within the community were worthy of writing. Articles in the local newspaper happened. They attracted attention and support for other elements of community life. Along with it, all writing and communication in general grew. 

It still does today. My adult kids read my material. They tell me it provides a view into my life they otherwise would not have. We often do not need to talk about important issues because they already know what I think about them. So do others. I don’t know who they all are. Or, who they are not.

The latter is a conundrum. I write enough that I don’t specifically need to target any one person. I figure they already know what I have written, especially if it is something they are deeply interested in. I don’t talk to them about this. They don’t talk with me about the details, either.

That’s a small part of what it is like to be a writer. You simply don’t know who is involved. Or if it even matters. I don’t write for an audience. I write for myself. The audience does make itself known from time to time. It is interesting to experience this side of things, but it is not the objective. No, writing is about freeing my mind of the topics. I think about them. I come to a conclusion, or not. Then I write about them and move on to the next topic. No agenda. No plan. Just thinking. Then writing. Words. Lots of words.

June 21, 2024