Writing is a strange thing. For me it comes and goes. There are times in my life when I’ve been diligent and writing is easy; at other times, it feels forced and I don’t do it. But it has been a part of me for as long as I can remember.
When I was very young my mom would sit me down and make me write an essay when I did something wrong. I had to explain in my own words what happened and why I behaved the way I did. After we talked about my actions, she’d give me a hug and go on to correct my spelling and grammar. I learned early on that writing well was important.
I had my first poem published when I was 6 years old. It went in some sort of children’s writing compilation and I didn’t care much about it then. It was a poem called “The Kerplumpkins” that described the history of a family of gnomes that lived in a pumpkin patch. Or something like that. I don’t really remember, and I think any copies of that poem are long gone.
At the 8th grade graduation I won the writing award. It should have gone to my friend Jose, who beat me in the spelling bee competition that year and is now a writer with the Washington Post. He and his team recently won the Pulitzer for their coverage of the Virginia Tech massacre. He’s also just a really good guy.
When I was a student at UC Berkeley I found that the easiest way to get stuff done was to write about what I wanted. I had a passion for environmental sustainability back then, I still do, and I decided to see how far I could take it. So I wrote some proposals like this about ways to institutionalize sustainability that got all the way up to the chancellor. He liked my writing well enough to fund a few of these ideas, and ultimately I pulled $100,000 out of him. The American Association of Universities in Washington, DC kept him from retiring and he and I managed to stay in touch. I’ll visit him out there in a couple weeks.
Finally, when it came down to applying to grad school, I moved in with my grandpa in Lafayette, CA to conjure up my inner applicant. I wanted to get into top schools, and I decided to shoot for policy programs. So I wrote.
My Princeton Woodrow Wilson School application was due first. It was tough. I didn’t feel good about my story or my writing. I had friends offer edits and I still didn’t like my application when it went in. I didn’t even make the waitlist. Cambridge University’s Land Economy was next. I got in. Phew. But Harvard was the real prize and I didn’t want to reuse the old essays.
I remember sitting in the back patio of my grandpa’s house with a glass of Trader Joe’s red wine. It would usually be 8:30pm, my favorite time of day during the Bay Area summer, just as the sun sets. I took that time to rethink, rewrite, and then reedit each of the five essays required by the Harvard Kennedy School. This time it was just me. No friends, no mom, just my thoughts and my story. I wanted to get in by writing with my heart first. I know that sounds corny, but it was important to me at the time. I felt good when I sent it off.
And then I got in. I spent a few weeks in Europe and saw the World Cup in Berlin. It was 2006. When I returned home in August I had a text on my phone from Sunil. He said he had a great idea. It was Scripped.
I moved to Cambridge, MA and together we started writing. First it was a business plan, then it was about 10 emails a day. And now we’re helping other writers do more writing.
We’re very proud of that!
And now to the Frenzy…