Write Like A Motherfucker & Read Every Book

As you can probably tell by now, I like to write, and read for that matter. So this morning, when I woke up with an infuriating case of writers block, you can only imagine how annoyed I grew as I sat in front of that taunting blank page. I managed to drink three cups of coffee as I stared off into space, a flatline running across my brain monitor. When I couldn’t bear it any longer, I slammed my computer shut and turned to my next resort, TinyBeautiful Things Advice On Love And Life From Dear Sugar, a book by Cheryl Strayed.  Dear Sugar is a collection of compassionate, funny, and insightful letters written from the voice of an advice columnist, Sugar, aka Cheryl Strayed. I flipped to a letter entitled, “Write like a motherfucker” written in response to a young girl with her own case of writers block. Sugar explains that the best way to escape writers block is to write a lot of sentences that may never turn into anything; to write like a motherfucker and just produce something.

Since advice is on my mind, I’ve decided to squash my own case of writers block by giving you some advice of my own; to write like a motherfucker and produce whatever comes to that empty mind of mine. So if you’re still with me, here's my advice, take it or leave it.

We’ve all judged a book by its cover, determined someone’s worth or value by their exterior alone. We’ve all prejudged someone, placing them into an inferior or superior category in relation to ourselves. It isn’t something we are proud of, nor is it something we regularly admit to or announce; sometimes we don’t even know we are doing it. The fall of my junior year of college I studied abroad in Cortona, Italy (where Under The Tuscan Sun was filmed.) I met a girl in my program whose mind spun a million miles an hour, just like mine. We fed off each other’s energy, spitting out never ending ideas about projects we wanted to start and places we wanted to visit. We quickly became travel buddies, exploring ourselves through the architecture and art in the small towns we visited over the weekends. We often got lost in the cobblestones and conversations about relationships, jobs, and our futures, redefining the definition of success in terms of happiness rather than money. We learned a lot from each other, but I think I gained the most out of our relationship as she taught me a valuable lesson in watching the way she lived. 

 Before the end of our trip, our group made one last stop in Naples. With a few hours before we had to be back for dinner, my travel buddy and I decided to use our remaining time in Italy wisely. So we hopped on a train to Sorrento, the capital of lemon cello. After almost getting off at multiple wrong stops along the way, my friend decided to ask a fellow passenger for some much needed help. The man she asked, was from Australia and happened to be staying in Sorrento. By the time the three of us had reached our stop, she had not only made him our very own Sorrento travel guide, but had somehow invited herself on his trip to Scotland. We spent our precious few minutes in Sorrento walking around the city as he showed us his favorite views, churches, and courtyards. The entire time we were there, little miss travel buddy asked question after question about Sorrento, Australia, his trip, and his life. As we sat on a park bench with a bottle of lemon cello, the questions kept flowing, followed by informative answers and lessons that I would have never learned without her curiosity. We were only there about an hour, but I was able to gather so much information about that beautiful city and bits of his life.

It was experiences like this; the little interactions turned learning adventures that will forever resonate with me. To her, the homeless man on the street, the fellow passenger, or the old man in the café were like books waiting to be read. She never chose who she’d “read” based on their cover, instead, she chose the one closest to her, dusted it off, and uncovered as much information as possible. She materialized what Albert Einstein said that, “everyone should be respected as an individual, but no one idolized.” She didn’t view people as higher or lower than herself, she just saw them as another piece to the puzzle, another book to read. So here is my advice, make it a goal to be half as thirsty for knowledge as her and read the books closest to you, not just the ones with the sparkly covers.