Jesseca Kusher

I think of one-liners in the back of my mind as I walk between the gray trees Anne Dillard might call the inverse of a negative photograph. Crisp and a positive mark on the film of my mind’s eye. They’re sharp against the gray white winter sky. There’s something pretentious about the idea of being a “writer,” but recently I’ve caught myself identifying as one.

I’m rereading Pilgrim at Tinker Creek and it strikes me as strange how Anne refers to herself as not an expert of her own land. She discredits herself and offers that because she is no scientist she cannot see the world as we do. In so many ways she colors herself a PhD through the smallest flecks of detailed memory. But there’s something remarkably accessible about the way she composes her essays. It is magical how I can feel myself walking behind her, watching as she examines the details in the grass.

Kenyon College is a Writing school. That’s right, with a capital “W.” Friday night at a special networking event for seniors I met a woman who worked very hard to convince me of such. Over wine she proclaimed very excitedly that after we all graduated we would, “…be able to write, REALLY write.” I nodded along. Her words validated me, I have been thinking so much about my own writing skills that I’ve started to think of myself as a Writer (capital”w”).

There’s something so powerful about the connection between science and writing or English. They are both about close reads. Intense attention to details, observation, and the desire (on some level) to share those findings with others. David Lynn, the Editor-in-Chief of The Kenyon Review, my science writing professor, and up-in-coming mentor figure recently told me that I had taken advantage of my Kenyon experience. I had never thought of it that way, but I did develop a specific learning experience over my time year. In my first two years I flirted with scientific research while dedicating myself as a journalist and editor of student publications. My second two years I honed those writing skills though independent scientific research and increased creative writing pursuits (screenwriting, playwriting, poetry, narrative essays, blogging– the list is long.)

Over my time at Kenyon I’ve written for publications and served as an editor — but it wasn’t until now that I’ve discovered my comfort identifying as a writer. Until now it has felt like some lofty word used to describe the English majors who think of themselves as perfectly good hipsters (thank you very much). I am realizing now, perhaps as a jaded senior, that we should all be allowed to self-identify. Yes, I am a writer. I am a poet, and a filmmaker, and a scientist, and an activist.

Beyond choosing to identify as a writer, I am learning from applying to jobs that I have the credentials to back it up. As I reflect in my cover letters and resumes, I have done an enormous amount of writing. I’ve won awards. I have credentials? I’ve won literary awards stretching back to my time in high school. Strange, I think — how I’ve brushed aside my accomplishments and left them forgotten. How is it that I’ve managed to jump back and forth between the creative and scientific sides of my brain without losing my mind?

Perhaps it’s because I’ve bridged the gap. So much of filmmaking is the combination of creativity and precision. I have trained with brilliant professors who have taught me to be aware of the details. A pond isn’t just a pond, it’s a series of microbiomes from the muck on the bottom to each ascending strata of warm water. Filmmaking isn’t just pointing a camera and directing the actors: it’s storytelling in a hyper-focused visual media. Everything must be written out, prepared for, observed, and re-observed. I love how I have been able to bring creativity to my science writing, and precision to my screenwriting. The liberal arts, and the experiential education experiences I have pursued over my time here have changed me for the better.

I live with few regrets — I wish I had taken my current science writing class sooner. It is almost too much fun. Although, I suppose it is offering me a new kind of clarity in my final semester at Kenyon College. I am a writer. I have a lot to be thankful for.