“I’ve known Brittany for a long time. She used to be in a duo with her best friend & do spoken word. Can you say that your writing has changed from 5 years ago? If so, how has it changed?” –Ms. S. Siegel (my former HS English teacher)
Today I spoke with two A.P. English classes at my old alma mater. I looked into the faces of teenagers smug with senioritis & I told them the truth. I talked to them about life outside of those brightly colored hallways that seemed to mock the sunshine. I looked on at the teachers who beamed at their ‘star’ alumni. It was sometime in those moments that I wondered whether it was there that I found my voice; the very place where it felt most stifled.
“How do you pay rent as an artist?”
How does a writer with student loans answer that question?
“I make my words my employees”, I thought inside of my head but before I manifested that very thought with breath, I was cut off.
“Artists put buckets outside and work for stray dollars. You have to make it work!” said the girl in the front row. She was right, wasn’t she? Struggle is synonymous with the “you-owe-me-40-acres-and-a-mule” attitude. Writing is the same as a cop-out when asked what you do for a living.
I am a writer.
Five years ago my writing was such a selfish act. It was filled with teenage angst & the struggle against finding my voice. Being a writer now means speaking for more than just myself. We are the voices of the voiceless. No matter how challenging it becomes if there were no writers, there would be no life; no documentation of existence. We write our pains, legacies, mistakes and triumphs. That is bigger than a pension plan in this ever shifting plummeting economy.
“If you’ve set everything around you on fire and there is nothing left then set yourself ablaze. You have to have something you believe in” –Ms. Henry (A.P. English teacher)
I am proud to wear this smock of a purpose. No matter how messy it gets…
Nice to meet you
I’m honored to write with you.
Brittany
The AZUL smocker
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