Bruce and Creative Writing After Math

Bruce and Creative Writing After Math

In high school I looked forward to whatever class came after math. Math made my brain smoke. Geometry was too linear, decimals, well what was the point? Word problems tripped me up. First of all, what could possibly be the problem with words? Secondly, as soon as I started reading,

  ‘Mary was heading to Boston on a train traveling 60 mph’… and I am out.

 My brain started wondering what she saw out of the window of the train. Was she going to see a friend? Her grandmother? What was the story here? Who cares what time she was going to get there, who was she going to see? Why? Was she ok? How old is she?

  During my senior year I finally had the opportunity to take a class that spoke to me. That year after math I ran to my Creative Writing class. I had a kooky, fun, non-traditional teacher who allowed me to be hmm, creative. It was here were I felt comfortable, where I could breathe and where my pen and a piece of paper became my common denominators. In this room, where I didn’t have to compute the difference between a negative and positive number, was where I found the perfect formula for simplifying any problem.

 On day one of Creative Writing class a boom box sat upon my teacher’s desk. From out of the speakers Bruce Springsteen’s “Thunder Road” blasted. The only instruction given,” Listen to the words, the story.” I was already familiar with Bruce’s genius and I am pretty sure I was smiling as he belted out the first line,

 “Screen door slams, Mary’s dress sways”…Oh, that’s what happened to Mary, she took a train up to a farm somewhere outside of Boston!

 Opening sentences if done right pull the reader (listener) in and if the sentences that follow are interesting enough, keeps him there. I wanted to do that! I wanted to tell stories. I knew that I saw the world differently than others and if my report cards were any indication of where my talents lie then it was clear I should be doing something creative.

 So here I am, a nurse go figure, math and science are my friends. And by the way, there is a real point to understanding decimals. Giving 1 mg instead of .1mg could have a pretty negative effect on someone. Maybe my fork in the road was when a chemistry teacher told me I was so dumb I should have been born blond or maybe being a hostess was a road I should investigate. I decided to prove her wrong, and becoming a nurse became my mission.

 What is my point here? I don’t know exactly. I do know that at 45 I find myself confused. I love being a nurse. It’s a privilege to be part of the most personal moments of someone’s life. I have listened to the most beautiful stories and learned so much from my patients. I know that following my heart and listening to my soul are the most important things for my well-being.

 So in the aftermath of Bruce and Creative Writing class would you indulge me while I take the WRITE of way and allow my WRITE sided brain a chance to tell some stories, after all everyone has one.