The love of words refuses to be pigeon-holed, for words themselves cannot be pigeon-holed. We are immersed in words like we are immersed in air—both are constant and enable the basics of life.
Since its onset thousands of years ago, writing has served as one of the greatest—if not the greatest—form of communication the human race has had at its disposal. But what sets this form of communication apart from the rest?
If novels are the 365 days of the year, including Christmas, then poems are the presents opened Christmas morning.
“What’s in your secret heart?” a professor recently wrote on my creative nonfiction homework. At first I laughed. “Secret heart”? Please. But then I thought about what it meant for the piece.
All great stories start with an idea.
I can’t tell you how to have an idea because that would be like teaching somebody how to breathe. But I can tell you where to go to find inspiration.