You know those people who obsessively catalog every album and every book they have every owned, making sure they are organized by either last name, subject, or author's blood type? Well, those people scare me. I am probably the least organized human being in my general sphere of things, leading me to trip over my valuable Elvis Costello 45s, while having used Chinese take-out containers sit in their lionized space on my dusty shelves. This leads to an enormous amount of brain-smoke moments, not the least being my first post here on the vaunted Peer Centered message board. So let's forget that this post is super late, and conveniently switch the focus to the world of consulting.
Let me say, coming into this experience, I felt a little apprehensive about where I would fit into the grand schematic of the super-spiffy composition community. My lack of organization, mixed with a general anxiety in regards to the "writer ideal" I have been privy to in the past, made me wonder if I really could make headway as someone who was supposed to "have the answers." My head is usually riddled with questions, from asinine to, well extremely asinine, and I still wonder if my "head in the clouds" persona can really touch ground with writers who really need a focused mind, along with a detailed plan to get them strumming along. However, after a little coaxing by those which shall remain nameless, I jumped over all my inhibitions, and gave this feigning expertise thing a go.
After a few weeks playing ball in the big leagues, I have come to a couple realizations. First of all, I need to quit with the blanket analysis. Sometimes it just pays to headbutt the wall, and see if you can find some hidden treasure through the cracks. Secondly, I really do enjoy my time spent collaborating with other writers. Although my pedagogy might encompass a lot of whirlwind philosophy and cheap dime-store inspiration, the concrete feeling of just HELPING is invigoration incarnate. I love playing around with rules, and disregarding them altogether sometimes. Yet, I am a firm believer in the fact of understanding the court structure in which you are playing the jester, in order to really understand why you are doing what you do. Every writer, despite whatever assumed skill level they might possess, deserves a chance to come to grips with their own version of voice in the written form. I feel very, umm, awesome, in knowing I will have a chance to play a part of that process for the students I am fortunate to consult with over the next undetermined period of time. Until next post...empathy and limited atrophy to all.