My Writing Process

…is a metaphor, of course.

A canvas of glass called what if hangs before me. Through it, the world appears as it is, but I can paint over it and make changes. Make one alteration—remove or add a constant—and explore how different life in the world can be.

Now, to render this change. I dab my brush in one word. Like color, the word has a set definition, but it also has a feeling, a mood, a tone, and its definition grows with context. I sample other syllables, and when I find the right tint, I sweep it on the glass.

More colors follow, shaped into images that move and jump off the canvas. They form a hologram standing next to me, still hollow, still too easy to see through. To make them real, I need special paint.

I take more what-ifs and grind them into sand, then stir this with the hued powders of how and the juices of why. This textured paint fills in the world with history, culture, and purpose.

Leftovers sit in my palm, clunky and dull. My fist closes, crunches, and uncurls, revealing remnants and hints of backstory. With a slow, gentle breath, I blow this glitter of emotion onto the canvas. It wafts and whispers into the peaks and valleys, delineating highlight and shadow, just enough to enhance the tones already there.

The piece is as complete as I can make it, for the final ingredient must come from you—your interpretation, your reason, your imagination. Will you see beyond the lines and tones of a two-dimensional glass plane?