I have a confession to make and please don’t whack me. I like the movie Finding Forrester. I rewatched it last night and couldn’t figure out if it was full white savior, white savior adjacent or passing, but I can’t help it. I enjoy the movie.

If you haven’t seen it, I’m judging you. But the story follows a 16-year-old black high school student from the Bronx who strikes up an unexpected friendship with a reclusive writer who lives in his neighborhood. They bond over a shared love of (and talent for) writing. The student, played by Rob Brown, is as gifted academically as he is athletically and is offered a scholarship to attend a prestigious private high school that challenges him in every way possible. The writer, played by Sean Connery, helps him navigate the potential pitfalls and helps nurture his spectacular talent and, in the process, begins living again. It’s heart-warming, touching, and there are plenty of writing nuggets, including:

“No thinking – that comes later. You must write your first draft with your heart. You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is…to write, not to think!”

Easier said than done, yeah? But we move.

Watching the movie, I always wonder what if. What if I took my writing seriously when words came to me effortlessly? Before I knew to second guess them and thought to doubt myself? What if I just kept writing – through it all, in spite of everything – how good would I be by now? How much better? How much more skilled? What would I have accomplished by now? Did I squander my talent? Is it too late?

There are the questions and the suppositions. And then, there is the work. Which I have avoided or abandoned for too long. So we begin. Again.