I like to hike. I don’t listen to music and I usually walk by myself. I think when I hike. Random thoughts flow in and out of my brain like clouds drifting across a blue sky. This time frequently gives me a way to access the trapdoor where I hold stories in my head. I think of people I’ve seen and how I imagine their lives. Bus stop guy. He’s one I think about. Bus stop guy waits for the city bus in front of a high end apartment complex situated off the road. Bus stop guy always wears Crocs of different colors on his feet. One Croc may be blue, the other yellow. The Crocs never match. He wears his dark brown, bone-straight hair down to his shoulders. Frequently, he wears a women’s knee-length mink coat that reaches just above his knees. I don’t think he’s a cross-dresser even though the mink is obviously designed for a woman. He wears extremely loud, bright colors.
He may wear red tights with black ankle boots and a psychedelic shirt from the 60’s. On warm summer days, he stands by the bus stop in white short-shorts with a bright green and black zigzag lightning shirt, feet outfitted in a yellow Croc and a red one. Bus stop guy never smiles. He looks out at the world through narrow brown eyes that dart here and there never landing on anything for too long. I marvel at his bizarre color choices. Is he color-blind? Who am I to judge his sartorial choices? We all only see the best when we look at ourselves. Why shouldn’t bus stop man?
I wasn’t sure what to write in today’s blog entry. Bus stop man came out of my creative unconscious, or what my creative writing instructor, Clive Matson, calls my “crazy child.” He has written a book entitled “Let the Crazy Child Write!” and teaches classes and holds seminars based upon his book. Clive’s classes are conducted with respect for every writer and he offers constructive feedback. Clive says we all carry a “crazy child” within us and this child is directly linked to our creative unconscious. We also embody an “editor” who is parental in nature and tells us what we “should” do. The “writer” coexists with the crazy child and the editor. The writer is a “negotiator” and “planner.” All have a role to play in writing, but the “crazy child” is where our creative voice resides. Bus stop man arose from my crazy child.
Taking writing classes for me was the first step in my creative journey. I feel lucky to have found an instructor who is encouraging, makes excellent suggestions to improve one’s writing, and have classmates whose creative voices I loved hearing.