and Words
I am unwritten
Can′t read my mind, I’m undefined
I′m just beginning
The pen’s in my hand, ending: unplanned
Staring at the blank page before you, open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you cannot find
Reaching for something in the distance, so close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Lyric excerpts from Musixmatch.
On a lazy weekend evening, we settle at home to watch a film. We hadn’t yet decided on our selection, but we looked for something that would entertain us for the evening. After looking at some trailers, we settled on the movie Anyone But You. It seemed like a fun, light-hearted romantic comedy. The movie didn’t disappoint; it was precisely what we needed that night.
Upon seeing the credits, I was delighted to find that Sydney Sweeney, the actress who played the lead, got top billing over her love interest, played by Glen Powell. Both characters were likeable and flawed. It’s refreshing to have finally escaped the misogynistic double standard about promiscuity from my youth. Naturally, you can predict that the two of them will end up together. Though, as with most romantic comedies, it’s not about the destination; it’s about the journey.
The movie ends with the entire cast singing the song ‘Unwritten’ by Natasha Bedingfield. Truthfully, most romantic comedies are entertaining but generally forgettable. This serenade by the cast made it distinctive, even memorable.
Natasha Bedingfield released this single in 2004, decades ago. ‘Unwritten’ is wildly popular. It filled the airwaves when there was such a thing. The music fills you with energy. Her voice follows the same exuberance and carries you. However, it was easy to allow the mere force of her words to cast a shadow on their meaning. For years, that’s all this was, a catchy tune from a woman with a powerful voice.
Oh, sure, I got the references to live life to its fullest. I understood the almost dayglow-caliber celebration-of-life message within. It’s not that I didn’t believe in this much optimism, but life is a cycle. Even if your favorite food item is coconut ice cream, it can’t be the only thing you ever eat. However, this time around, as the cast sang along to the song, I launched Shazam on the phone to fetch its title.
‘Unwritten’
Huh? Is that really the title? Then I read through the lyrics and concluded that it’s definitely the same song. How did I miss all the references to writing?
Shortly after I learned English, I became fascinated with reading novels. It started with science fiction and fantasy. Those black words on white pages immersed me in worlds and ideas that awakened my imagination. Reading was my escape. As soon as I realized how those writers affected me, I wanted to affect others in the same way. I dreamt of becoming a novelist.
My 10th-grade English teacher allowed me to dream and encouraged me to write. She read handwritten pages of prose from my unimaginative 15-year-old self. Or perhaps more accurately (and more forgivingly), my younger self, who still struggled with English as my second language. I knew of no one else in my high school who wrote for the sake of writing. Sadly, my PSAT scores indicated that writing was not in my future.
Years later, I completed my engineering degree from the University of Miami and landed a job at Microsoft. My existence became all computer geek. After years of honing my craft as a software developer and tester, I started an online journal. I typed the ramblings of the events of my days and my loosely structured thoughts around them.
Sometimes, I ranted about the weather, specifically about the differences between Miami and Seattle. One day, a woman searches about the Seattle weather and finds that page; it piques her interest, and she sends me e-mail; that was decades ago. Tonight, she sits next to me while we watch Netflix. I do not exaggerate when I say that writing led the love of my life to find me.
As we started dating, we watched a movie about a fictitious young writer. Finding Forrester enchanted us both. I could see many parallels between Jamal Wallace and me. I’ve often wondered if I could have (or could still) become a professional writer. Might that have been possible with a mentor like William Forrester? In the film, they often described Jamal’s aptitude for writing as exceptional, almost magical.
Both the cynic and the engineer in me believe that the natural talent portion of this is overblown. In my field, I have had moments where my intuition led me to perform feats that seemed almost magical. I once stood at the office door of a work friend to invite him to lunch. His face filled with consternation about something on the screen. My question to him, “That crashes, doesn’t it?” He simply turns and glares at me; I respond with, “Let’s go to lunch, I’ll tell you why.”
The simple truth is that 95% of these seemingly magical feats are simply intuition. Furthermore, 95% of intuition is based on experience, which involves thousands of hours of experience. An experienced driver can intuitively tell when the car in the next lane will abruptly jump into theirs, but that intuition is developed by many instances of observing other drivers.
Quietly, I wonder if I should have taken that leap out of high school into a career of writing, especially knowing now that I am a very good programmer. Perhaps a better question is, had I become a professional writer, would it have fulfilled me in the way that I had imagined as a young reader?
These days, I keep two blogs. They’re each different and fulfill different needs. I’m lucky in that my vocation as a computer geek adequately pays the bills. I have yet to make a dime from writing, and thus I won’t call myself a professional. Readers (mostly friends) have suggested that I could easily write an op-ed in a publication somewhere.
It would very much amuse me to have made some money by writing, even if a token $1. I could finally take the label of professional writer. However, I do not look for avenues to get published. These days, I write because I must. The thoughts in my head circle endlessly like vultures on a dead carcass. I write because it’s easier to write than not to write, much like it’s easier to sneeze than not to sneeze.
I’m also mindful that readership may ultimately lead me to alter how and what I write. Thus, I am painfully cognizant about seeking affirmation. Though for now, I merely write, one post after the other, to exercise the demons in my head. Finally, as Natasha Bedingfield’s voice so artfully suggests:
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten