Right Here/Right Now

An Exercise in the Past and Present

Hello, dear readers and writers.

Just last night, in my Thursday night workshop, we were discussing how sometimes we get lost on Instagram. We scroll for longer than we like to admit, watching video after video, and before we know it, a half hour (or more) has passed. Algorithms get created. And soon we are getting ads for bodybuilding shakes, fancy new suitcases, and online vocal coaches. Our conversation led toward changing your algorithm, and also why it might be important to put down that phone and pick up a book or magazine a little more often.

I’ve been working on this, and have also discovered some beautiful, surprising, and powerful spoken word and poetry on Instagram. I’m also following some inspiring vegan and vegetarian cooks, and I’m definitely getting my fill of cute animal videos and heartrending therapy dog moments.

Today’s prompt comes from one of those discoveries: a poem by the author Hollie McNish, whose honesty, humor, and emotional depth have gotten her quite a bit of attention lately. McNish embodies for me what Anne Lamott is addressing in our opening quote for the day. This is from her excellent book on writing titled, Bird by Bird:

If something inside you is real, we will probably find it interesting, and it will probably be universal. So you must risk placing real emotion at the center of your work. Write straight into the emotional center of things. Write toward vulnerability. Don't worry about appearing sentimental. Worry about being unavailable; worry about being absent or fraudulent. Risk being unliked. 

I love this advice especially: risk being unliked. A requirement for authenticity, if you ask me. (And please ask me! I would love to read your comments and answer your questions about this concept).

Now onto the prompt, which is the poem, “butter knife.” You can find this poem—and a sweet and funny intro to it—in the video below. And you can find out more about Hollie McNish here, as well as accessing her Instagram account here.       

Just a reminder that there’s no wrong or right way to respond to one of my prompts. When it comes to using a poem as a prompt, I often just listen to the poem read aloud, and write from the emotional resonance it leaves behind. You can also choose a line or a passage from the poem to use as a place to begin, and integrate that into your own piece, if you want to.

What I wrote, along with the print version of the poem, appear below.