In Kindergarten they didn’t know what to do with me. For weeks I shuffled between reading groups like a misshapen marble that doesn’t fit through the door. One day I was average, the next smart, then really smart, then not at all. “Okay, go to your reading groups,” the teacher would say and I’d stand right out there in the middle waiting to be noticed, my face burning red, my eyes casting for a net.
Alone, I read slow. Even without kids and a house to clean and dinners to make, it can take me months to finish a book. I read every word letting them roll along a cranial roller coaster pitching and tossing one after another after another until the loops connect and the ride is over.
I believe I have an issue with reading comprehension. Or that I am so much a visual learner that everything I read needs to be spun into pictures and made clear. This is what I enjoy about reading and this is how I write.
Notice the metaphors, they’re really going on in there, in here. I’m still watching the roller coaster plummet and rise.
I believe I have an issue with reading comprehension and an innate and strange understanding of language. Language comes to me on its own behalf, we’ve always been buddies. It’s like, there’s this deficit–understanding–and then there’s this overcompensation–reading s-l-o-w–and it works out to what I call “writing by ear”.
In high school I used to sit on the phone the night before a paper was due and write while simultaneously editing my friend’s assignment. “How does this sound?” she’d ask and I’d repeat it, think it, repeat, suggest something else.
I’m fascinated with the tools we use to create our work. To write a story, I need to work from a visual source either from the real world or yanked from the narrow hallways of my mind.
I should introduce you to my muse, she’s a trip.
How do you create? Where do the ideas spark? Do you think a deficit in one area can lead to better understanding of another? How so?