The Realization that I Could Write
My writing journey started in the mid-1990s when I realized that I could string words together for a compelling narrative–that I could get my thoughts down on paper in a meaningful way. Which surprised me a bit.
At least two things brought me to this realization. One, since my marriage in 1988, I had endeavored to write an annual holiday newsletter. To my surprise, these newsletters were well received, and feedback from the recipients planted a seed of confidence in me regarding my words.
The second thing was the advent of email. As a supervisor in a large organization, I often needed to convey information up and down the chain of command. Operational necessities compelled daily digital communications. Again, I received positive feedback, now from colleagues, whom appreciated both my clarity and my brevity.
In 1999, I became a State Transportation Official for the Commonwealth of Virginia. I was an operations engineer. In that capacity, my ability to write directives and respond to political subdivisions in writing was critical.
Occasionally, I’d need to write a white paper to establish a specific issue or opportunity. My writings needed to educate, inform, and influence government officials. The accuracy and validity of my words became crucial documentation as the issue at hand weaved its way up the government chains. I would rarely know of any influence my words had after I’d written them.
Words Can Make a Difference
One day, though, I received a copy of a letter that came to me from the office of US Senator John Warner (he was once married to Liz Taylor). He was the last signatory of a letter to the Secretary of Transportation on a matter I had initiated. My verbatim text appeared in several paragraphs of the letter. I was floored. Our entire congressional delegation as well as both our sitting US senators had signed my words. This success didn’t go unnoticed, and I found the feedback satisfying.
On another occasion, I produced a successful grant application for federal funds to support the regional Incident Management Committee, a committee I chaired. My words were now paving my way forward. It was an exciting time. I was progressing in my writing journey; my words were making a difference.
Could I Be a Creative Writer?
Technical and business correspondences, though, are different than creative work. I wondered: Could I be a creative writer? Could I tell my own precious stories? I mean, could I tell them in a way that elicited emotional responses. I surely had stories I wanted to share. And my stories weren’t fiction. They were my existence stories. I wanted to share my experiences using strategically-crafted written words.
I started by writing stories about my firsthand knowledge of traffic management. Yes, traffic management. Whenever an over-the-top incident happened on our technology-laden interstate roadways, I’d jot down a few sentences on a 3 x 5 index card and throw it into a shoebox for future reference.
I used these 3 x 5 cards as prompts in my first attempts at creative writing, even as “creative writing” was a term that I couldn’t fully define. I produced about twelve stories, but with each story, I had a nagging feeling: I was getting tired of traffic stories. I wanted to write my adventure stories.
My sailing adventures go back to my teen years. I’ve both sailed for travel and sailed for speed (racing). I have dozens of stories, from the sublime to the horrific.
Learning the Craft of Writing
On a good day, I can produce 500 words. A good day means a full four hours throughout the day. But I still struggle with knowing if I’m writing effectively. Will my future readers enjoy themselves?
I’ve begun my third year as a member of the Toledo Writers’ Workshop, an informal but knowledgeable group of writers who present their work to others and offer thorough writing critiques of others’ writing. I learned quickly that I could write but that I had no craft. Of course, I was humbled. But, also, I was encouraged by my new like-minded wordsmiths.
The group is guiding me through things that had breezed by me in my early years. Things like story arc, passive writing vs. active writing, writer’s voice and point of view, hyperbole, tenses, clichés, and punctuation, oh my! The writing journey can be intense.
Finally, though, my writers’ group has urged me to broaden my storyline. I was born blind, and they want to know my stories of blindness–the defects and challenges of my development as a child. And, importantly, how I reconciled issues inherent with being a high-seas adventurer with low vision. These are the most difficult things to find the right words for. It takes courage to produce. It takes a focused effort–in abundance–as well. And it takes understanding of craft to get it right.
An Exhilarating and Rewarding Writing Journey
I do love the creative process. I love the journey. I know it to be exhilarating and rewarding: to tell stories with craft. It’s like combining the speed of backgammon with the cunning of chess. The only barrier to my success as a writer? (And by success, I mean being proud of my efforts.) My biggest barrier to success is in keeping my ass in the chair and the keys dancing.
About the Author: James Mock
James Mock was born in Toledo, Ohio, in the mid-1950s, but his family soon moved to New York City, eventually, settling in Mineola, New York. Near the end of his high school years, James discovered the world of sail, an unlikely a match as it was miraculous. James had been born blind, but advances in technology (both in surgical procedures and lens-optics) eventually elevated his visual prospects.
Through sailing, James built a solid record of accomplishment. He has crossed the Atlantic under sail and has won several sailing championships as part of a ten-person sail team. He graduated from the New York Institute of Technology in the late 1970s with a degree in Architecture.
Since the mid-1990s, he has had a deepening interest in writing and strives to tell his personal stories of adaptation, determination, and perseverance. His low-vision, one-eyed adventures over the course of 40 years are meant to inspire and entertain. Equally important, he wishes to encourage others to find their place in the world.
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