Anatomy Of A Writer: In The Beginning

What makes a writer? Is there such phenomenon as "born with the talent". I guess Ernest Hemingway will say, "NO, there is no such kind". There are just willingness and guts. In birth and death everyone is equal, no one is born with a fountain pen in his tiny hands; in life we all learn to learn to how. It doesn't matter what you learn, but how you make use of your learning. And I'm telling you, you don't learn how to be epic in school, you learn that after school (I don't mean the time after the school bell rings). I can't tell you how to be epic because I'm still trying to figure that one out. If I could dissect a great writer into pieces, it's going to be Stephen King, Hemingway, Coelho, or C. Joybell C. I would like to know what a writer's heart looks like, how are his kidneys different from normal people, or if his brains are edible, stuff like that. You know I'm just kidding here and I don't have any intention of slaying anyone, I like the word "slaying" there; much classic than "killing". Now, going back: Anatomy. In health that's the study of the body parts. In writing, that's defining what a writer is. Who am I to make such definition? I'm a writer (boy, have I told you I'm a nurse?). And you can make your own anatomy too. 

"Write one true sentence", the legendary Hemingway said. I was stunned when I first learned those lines, like "Are you personally talking to me, Ernest?" And so I never stopped reading the tips for writers I got somewhere in the web. I felt like one, and I baptized myself as one when I stumbled upon Stephen King's "On Writing" (damn! I should have read this ten years ago!). What did he exactly mean with one true sentence? I guess it depends with the way you take it. I take it as a reminder that a writer doesn't need to start with an atomic line filled with adjectives and adverbs (Stephen King hate these two). You can begin with, "I killed my neighbor's cat last night". Now, that's truer compared to: "She was the queen of the prom night, slowly walking towards me". And so? Who cares about the prom night queen? I will probably read more why the cat was killed. How good are you? It doesn't matter how you appear to the third guy in line in Dunkin Donuts. It doesn't matter how your boss looks at you when you topped the monthly grammar test. What matters is how you look at yourself? I'm good. I'm not good. I think I'm in between. You should tell it to yourself everyday and it will make a lot of difference. I totally like "I'm good". There's no law I know that prevents self-proclamation of your goodness, so go ahead and claim the throne you made for yourself: you are a writer and you are good. Now, all you have to do is prove it. 

"Explore and expose yourself". That's a whole lot opposite to what you're thinking like touching yourself in the subway. When you know what you want, it's not hard for you to decide which way you should go. I learned about my poetic side when I was twelve. I didn't know it was special until I read the poems of Shakespeare and Kipling. Those men were dead, but they were great, people read them and try to be like them. I, too, tried to write like them. Shakespeare was deep. He was like a glittering pool that looked fine and once you dived in, you learned how deep it was, so deep you can't touch the bottom. I was like that in Merchant of Venice, Act IV, Scene I when I first read it. I was twelve and quality of mercy was like Math to me. I settled to Joyce Kilmer's Trees. Years later, when my poetic self came back to it's senses (that was in 2013) I read that part of Merchant again and it was a clear, blue pool. Shakespeare was still deep, but I learned how to float. I'd like to convince you I know how to comprehend Shakespeare with my favorite line: It blesseth him, he that gives and he that takes. Exploration could also mean becoming better. Better than what? Better than the previous you, forget about 'better than your neighbor or Neruda'. Just be better. I used to think my poems and essays are superb they'll qualify for Nobel Prize. I read our 2002 World Almanac stuck in the cabinet and flipped the pages to find the list of Nobel Prize winners for literature. I wondered how will I ever end up in the list, even just as nominee. I guess it's too grand for me. (Well, I just learned in order to be eligible for the Prize you must be nominated by qualified persons). I won't dwell on this topic. So, going back to becoming better, please and always never compare your good self to others. I know what it feels, I think you know too. It's sickening to know that your brainless cheerleader back in high school is now a big time entrepreneur. Let them win. Give them the glory. Yours and mine is way different. I'd like to think my winning moment will stain history, the finest stain ever. And then the ironic things: My neighbors will recall how I looked like when I was eating spaghetti at their child's birthday party. My batch mates will take out their year books and find my name. The people who didn't believe...no...I don't hold grudges, so that's not continued. 

I have a few words on how a writer exposes himself. He reads a lot. He writes a lot. You don't learn grammar just by reading books, you practice it through writing your own sentences. And you don't tell me how beautiful Santorini is just by looking at a post card, you have to be there and experience what's beautiful.