He reached for the New Found Glory Rubik’s Cube I keep
tucked in the driver side center console of my Yaris as I made a turn toward
the school. I eased on and off the brake, nervous that my ability to drive
somehow equated with my ability to write. I was anxiously trying to remember
the carefully crafted queries I had been practicing for a few weeks as he
turned and tweaked the random designs of the cube. Before I could mention my
background in film and how I have always wanted to create a book-turned-film,
and much before I could remember a single question regarding either, Nick Flynn
offered me a pair of pieces of gum. Then he asked me about my name.
There are many more fantastic opportunities available, when
a writer in residence offers a week long creative writing workshop, than the
workshop. The most productive of which
is the ride you selfishly offer to give the writer so that you may have 10 to
20 minutes of one-on-one mentor time. I offered three of such said rides, the
first of which somehow designated me as the object of conversation.
“It’s Negean- soft “g.” I seem to always start. I became
more anxious as I realized that those 20 minutes would be devoured by the
incessant curiosity that propels a barrage of questions that leave me giving
the same explanation so often it sounds like a rehearsed script given on a
guided tour.
Conversations, no matter their recurrence, always prove to
establish a connection between ideas and information. I find myself trying to
shorten the explanation of my name a little more each time I tell it. I found
Flynn asking me to lengthen it. For the first time I began making connections
between myself and what I write.
Think of an image, any image. Write. For seven minutes do
not remove your pen from the page. Slowly your mind will reveal to you, through
your subconscious, exactly how brilliant you are. With another classic
re-telling of my name fresh on my lobes- I wrote. And through the scratch I saw
something I haven’t seen before. I saw my thesis.
Nick Flynn is an accomplished memoirist and taught Poetry as
Bewilderment to a group of budding writers. With a firm process on diving into
the self, Flynn’s workshop in turn kick-started the single cell of my thesis
that underwent mitosis and grew exponentially in a direction of self-discovery.
Negean is finishing her final year as an MFA candidate in
poetry. Her rare blend of honest humor seems to captivate people enough to ask
constantly "is she serious?" or to announce an inner thought "I
can't tell if she's being sarcastic." She assures you that you will never
know. Negean currently teaches English Composition to college freshmen, who
laugh at the same jokes she tells her elementary sized creative writing
aftercare students.
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