Morgan Flitt 1

Morgan Flitt
Professor Jan Rieman
UWRIT 1103 (Writers on Writing)
27 August 2014
Writing to Explore
Walk. Walk to the cafeteria. Morgan, how was your day today? Scan the
card. Heart beats pressed against car window panes. Smile at the kind face in front of
you. Make sure to say thank you. Mean it. Thrown into the wind like dandelion wishes.
Walk. Pick from the choices, the overly green or the sickeningly pink or the
underwhelming gray. Grab a glass. Fill it up. Walk. Morgan, would you mind passing
the salt? Placeless. Faceless. So much here is nameless. Eat. Listen. Pick up a napkin
then put it down again. Morgan, are you sure youre okay? Nod. Listen. Eat. And
these, these are the love letters I will never send. Finish everything on your plate. Get
up. Walk. Walk again. Morgan, youre awfully quiet. Watch the setting sun sacrifice
itself to the sky. Too poetic. Walk. Open the door. In my shaking hands, my shaking
heart, my shaking life. Walk. Turn on the lights. What does it take to make it out of
here alive? Close the door. Guess she just wanted to be alone tonight. We are lost
causes. Sit. Lost souls. Breathe. One more moment, one more chance. Write. Heart
beats pressed against car window panes
When I write, its less like gradual undulations that drag me further into the
sea and more like tsunamis waves that come all at once, with no amount of
predictability and often times no amount of control. I can go months without ever
writing something and then all at once, in the strangest of circumstances I can be hit

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with lines that practically write themselves. They will sing into my ear constantly,
whisper delicately until I find a place to let them truly expand, grow and become
whatever shape they chose to form. Often times, I have to keep listening to their
tune until I am completely alone, in a dark room, but sometimes one with sunlight
spilling through the window shades at the time between dusk and dark. Music is
turned on, often times some soft and melodically heartbreaking sweeping piano
composition. The words then just find a way to the paper, in a fashion that seems
more out of body than anything else Ive yet to experience.
The other writers made me reflect about whether or not the writing process I
take is the best one for other writers or at least those who want to become writers,
and I think for the most part I would say that would not be the ideal way of going
about writing, as it is so unpredictable in its nature that often times when it most
needs to come it cant be depended on. The other writers all seem to have very
separate processes, all attempting to harness the energy that comes from
untethered writing though, and that is what I attempt to do as well.
In this writing to explore, I wished to, in the introduction at least really put the
reader into a more first person perspective in regards to my writing process. When I
am on the brink of writing something, the world feels very disconnected and far away,
as if Im just going through the motions and watching myself do them rather than
actually doing them myself. I hoped to give the readers that kind of image when they
read what I wrote and intended for that to put them not only in a descriptive idea of
where I go when I write or what my process is, but to actually let them feel that

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mimicked first hand. The choppy mixed with poetic style was calculated in order to
achieve that precise effect.