Looking at a museum painting on a Sunday afternoon, I was amused hearing onlookers extrapolate meaning from an abstract canvas. If you are like me, you look at the randomly colored triangles wondering whether the artist had those ideas in mind. Similarly, listening to a discussion on the political implications of the Alice in Wonderland tea party left me wondering whether Lewis Carroll was at the same depth as his readers.

As I work to finish my second novel, I am now the one behind the brush. I can tell you that weaving clandestine themes into my work is like planning a treasure hunt for the readers. Yet despite my ability to set traps, I believe that the ultimate power of the written word does not belong to the author. The level of imagination and personal experience that the reader brings into the equation allows for virtually limitless depth and scope of interpretation.

It’s kind of like sex. Yeah, I said it! I’m about to compare creative writing to sex (You should really read Superhighway.) 

A naked body is never as sexy as one with the sensitive areas covered. When an artist communicates with the written word, much is left to the imagination, expanding the quantity of possible interpretations to the number of readers. 

Having discovered the incredible superpower of the written word 11 years into my career, I now aim to graduate from academic life. At this point, to shed the title of a professor to that of an author is the professional prize I seek.