We are in the midst of a very busy season at Fighting Words. In the last two weeks, I have completed my first two workshops as a Workshop Leader. As a Workshop Leader, I sent info to volunteers, assigned roles, completed the briefing and tech check, led the debrief, and handled administrative tasks like logging info in our database and saving the illustrations from the workshop. It was a lot to remember, but I felt ready to take it on because of the support and encouragement I have received from my colleagues. Marnie, who is in charge of my training, has given me the leeway to decide my own training schedule, but is still guiding me gently through the course. Sam, another workshop leader, always reiterates that I can ask him to repeat instructions as many times as I need, which I appreciate infinitely. As I have gone through the training process, I have made edits to old training materials and even created new ones to make it easier for future workshop leaders to learn the ropes. My favorite of those is a document where I drafted silly questions that character builders can use to help children develop their character ideas during workshops. The list includes questions such as, “What does this character eat for breakfast?” and “Do they have any weird or unexpected hobbies?”.

In addition to workshop leader training, I have officially begun my interviews for the case studies I’ll be writing on Fighting Words volunteers and workshop participants. This week, I met up with a rapper named Benji, who started out as a participant in our Young Playwrights program and has recently led a Fighting Words workshop of his own. Throughout the interview, he reiterated how crucial his experience with Fighting Words was to his trajectory as a writer. The facilitators were the first people to take him and his art seriously, and that gave him the confidence to keep practicing and putting his work out into the world. Our conversation was a beautiful reminder for me of just how life-changing our work at Fighting Words can be. By inviting young people into a space where they can be themselves, exercise creativity earnestly and without judgment, and receive guidance and affirmation from adults, we can open these children to a world they may never have previously imagined. Time and time again, teachers and students alike are shocked by how much the children enjoy and excel at writing stories. Once freed from the rigid rules and expectations of the traditional classroom setting, students are lit on fire by an enthusiasm for storytelling, writing, and sharing. They are empowered by the knowledge that this skill has always resided within them. The concept of creative writing shifts from a burden to a passion. It is so fulfilling to watch this happen right in front of me– some students start out their individual writing time feeling dejected about having no ideas, but after a few questions from a Fighting Words mentor, they get inspired. Sparks light in their eyes and they’re off to the races, ideas spilling from their mouths faster than their pencils can move. The magic starts in our workshop, but it follows the children back to their classrooms– many continue writing the stories they started with us and retain their newfound enthusiasm for using their imaginations to create. 

Ok, enough work stuff. There have been so many life highlights over the last couple of weeks. As much as I have learned to love my independence and alone time, I am still an extrovert at heart. I have felt overwhelmingly grateful for the moments of friendship I have shared with new and old connections– a fall-themed vegan feast with Faith and Cian (we each brought a course), a night frolic at the dock playground with Natasha (we were disappointed by the slide’s lack of speed), a goofy songwriting session with Elisabeth and Adam (‘Cortado’ out on all streaming platforms soon), a study date at a cool coffee shop with Noelle (we were surprisingly productive!), late night phone calls with Megan and Alana (the 6 hour time difference will not stop us from chatting for 4 hours at a time), a lovely Italian dinner at Villa Italia with Sarah and Kai (with tiramisu for dessert, obviously), a night out for Halloween with Katie and Elisabeth (we all threw costumes together at the very last second), and mushroom soup and Monopoly Deal at Gracie and James’s house (it was so cozy to be in a real home, not student accommodations). 

I have felt the first pangs of homesickness this week– I think wistfully about stick deodorant, Taco Bell, the sun, night drives, and time spent with people who already know and love me well. However, small comforts like well-timed phone calls from home, Trader Joe’s Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups (brought back from America by my lovely colleague, Aoife), and a weekend in Belfast with Elisabeth Moss rejuvenated me with little familiarity energy-bursts. I have learned that my mental sky does not have to reflect the one outside (which is usually gray), and I have begun the practice of reflecting on my internal weather report at the end of each day. Much like real weather, the mental forecast doesn’t stay consistent all day, but there are always patches of sun or peaceful mist. I’m comfortable holding space for all of my emotions, not just the pleasant ones. There is something so beautifully human about experiencing full-body emotion, allowing it to course through my veins, leak into my writing, permeate my perception. I do miss the sun. But even when I can’t find it in the sky, I am searching for it within my heart. Here’s a poem I wrote about it: 

Hope melts down from the sky

Golden patches fall on

The sun’s favorites

An ivy-strewn bank

An upturned face

She visits, 

But never lingers

We are grateful anyways