My writer’s hope

In fifth grade, I was a voracious reader, devouring every book I could find. But Ms. Usie, with her quiet alchemy, turned me into a writer. A good teacher unlocks something deep within, and she did just that. My first story cast Father Christmas handing our class the North Pole’s reins, transforming every classmate—even those I didn’t like—into elves on wild adventures. Words, I learned, could reshape the world, turning small desks into vast, enchanted realms.

Creative writing has always held me captive, a strange magic of escape and transformation. As a therapist steeped in Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), I delve into the power of words and metaphor, exploring how people speak about themselves or frame their struggles. In ACT, words are more than sound—they’re lenses that shape reality. Metaphors, like a fili’s verse, can bind or free us. A client calling their anxiety a “storm” might see chaos, but reframing it as “waves” invites rhythm, movement, possibility. Through ACT’s lens of cognitive defusion, I guide clients to loosen the grip of harmful self-stories, using metaphors to weave new meanings that align with their values. Words don’t just describe—they transform, turning the ordinary into heroes, fears into paths forward.

After years as an academic, a therapist, and a wanderer on rough roads, I returned to fiction last year with that same childhood hunger. My influences form a tapestry: Jung’s archetypes uncover the symbols beneath our tales; John Jakes threads history into human heartbeats; Stephen King crafts dread from silence as much as screams; Shirley Jackson blends horror and tenderness in a single breath; myth and theology speak truth in story’s ancient tongue; science fiction dares me to ask “what if?” and bend reality. Together, they fuel my words, each a metaphor reshaping the raw material of life.

Reading my stories aloud to Ms. Usie’s class felt like baring my soul. Posting my work here—stories, poems, fragments—echoes that vulnerability. What if no one reads it? What if they don’t understand? Yet, as in ACT, I lean into the discomfort, trusting the process. My dream isn’t just publication but connection: to send words, like metaphors, into another’s mind, where they might stir, linger, or give shape to the unspoken. That’s the true power of a writer’s craft.