Category: cherry blossoms

Where are the writers in publishing? Look to the foundations.

Recently on one of my morning walks, I snapped this photo of early cherry blossoms near the WWI Memorial just off the Washington Mall. On the base on this marble memorial, that changes hue as the sun rises and sets, are the names of D.C. residents that lost their lives in the Great War. Often when I’m walking near by in the early morning, photography equipment graces the steps as soon-to-be brides and grooms or recent graduates in their flowing robes gaze dreamily into the distance –maybe thinking of the past, maybe thinking of the future — but I’m guessing not thinking of the names or memories upon which they stand. In this photo, I particularly enjoy how the memorial is graced with these new blossoms, but also partially hidden – but solid, and foundational as well to the blossoms’ new found existence and beauty.

So too, are writers in publishing. Writers are everywhere — they are the foundation upon which publishing rests and they are everyone that works within, near, adjacent to, and down the road from publishing. In my view, we often think of the real writers as the stars whose names grace book covers or magazine tables of contents; but writers are involved at every step of the way from the website copy of any journal to tweets to contract drafting. These behind-the-scenes writers that often don’t have bylines or signatures are no less creative that those whose books and articles we readers soak up with glee upon publication; these writers make writing happen — they are the foundation, the marble, often hidden, but right there in lockstep with the cherry blossoms. These writers often have not-so-apparent creative writing lives as well, that they work on in the after-hours, crafting away when our own ideas have gone to press (or web, or the myriad of other forms writing gets out into the world).

In my own publishing internship, writers are all around me as every staff person writes in a variety of capacities nearly each day whether for the organization’s blog, editing work of guest writers, composing reports or marketing materials or grant drafts– words are all around everyone, everyday. For me, I’ve had the chance to complete two byline pieces so far (publication pending in April) and will be beginning my next piece within the next several weeks. Writing is the foundation here, whether in front of the camera so to speak appearing in the magazine, or in all that makes the magazine happen (and there is much).

I’ve spent the last few days with friends, one of whom is a writer for a national architecture firm — he’s written books, more articles than I could count if I tried, served as an editor for an architecture magazine, and he’s done a little freelance work for the local PBS station as well. What ties his work all together is the idea that writing is everywhere — there is always a story to tell, though every story is not glamorous perhaps, it is worthy of telling because there are readers out there that need and want to know things about his firm’s projects, or architects or their clients. These reaffirm my own ideas that have taken shape this semester, combined with my own past experiences: writers are all around, within every corner of publishing, and there are a vast number of ways to be a writer.

Deciduous & Muddy #morningview #cherryblossoms #DCHistory

The history of DC’s cherry trees is fairly well known, but the story of how these trees must be protected and cared for, probably less so. To add to the complexity of preserving these aging trees, their micro-environment here at the Tidal Basin is fraught with peril. The land around the basin is slowly sinking while sea levels rise, and today it’s nearly equilibrium as sidewalks surrounding the basin as well as the soil to which these delicate trees cling, are often flooded. Add in the torrential storms that pass through the region, along with upper Potomac run-off that speeds toward the Atlantic from the Blue Ridge and suddenly using the word “peril” doesn’t seem extreme.

The beauty of the trees draws visitors from around the globe and I’ll be the first to admit, there is something about this natural display of pink cotton balls that has me on blossom watch too — and I too, like so many, feel drawn to be part of the festivities. It’s not only the natural explosion of color, it’s the participatory nature of the blooms — the cooperation, the friendliness, the seeing people from all walks join in conversation — all because of these blossoms. But then, the blossoms wither, and next thing I know, humidity is bursting onto the scene and we are left with the hordes of school groups that descend and no one seems to care much for the less than glorious green leaves of summer, or the deciduous scrawniness of fall. Or more importantly, the floods that leave walkers and runners clinging to the sides of the basin.

This is the real story of the tidal basin: we love it when we love it (much like any natural environment), but when we’re not in it, we cease to give it a second glance. So true is our approach to climate change, rising seas, and all that goes along with this perilous issues — our lack of a backward glance drives these changes. I would never propose to know the path forward, but I do know which paths become impassible without change — today, we’re in the mud, but to preserve beauty, simply moving to higher ground is no longer enough.