Writing in the Dark

I used to be a public writer and would spend hours describing my surroundings while at parks and coffee shops. Some may have called me a poser with my black spiral notebook and leather jacket, yet I feel my public writing phase helped me learn to write with all my senses.

At 17, I was more preoccupied with making observations and sharing my opinion than writing poems or a novel. Some of my blurbs read more like rants and I almost stopped writing when one of my high school English teachers told me that I was wasting my time and talent because publishers would never print a diary or journal unless the person was famous.

Although the internet was already around, this was a time when a blog was thought to be a hard-to-remove stain and Altavista was the ultimate search engine. Thanks to AOL, I created my first homepage which I populated with thoughts from my black spiral notebook. Amazed with the Instant Messages from strangers online that found my writing funny, or agreed with my view point on a topic, I continued to develop my thoughts on paper and used the web as my editor.

When I lost my sight in 2007, learning to read and write in the dark reminded me of my teenage phase of learning to use words to decipher my world. I traded my black notebook and mechanical pencils for a laptop with talking software for the blind called JAWS (Job Access with Speech), a pair of headphones, digital recorder, and electronic dictionary. At the beginning, the robotic voices that read my writing back to me seemed flat allowing me to only write a few sentences at a time. My first short story of five pages took months to complete because of the constant interruptions I call "ear breaks" between my writing sessions that involved listening to the radio to help refresh my eardrums. However, just like with many things in life, JAWS became tolerable and eventually my friend. Learning to focus solely on my content and ignore JAWS was the first step in mastering writing in the dark.

Attempting to reclaim my roots, I ventured to public places with my laptop and guide dog Madge; I found that chatty crowds and buzzing cars kept me from hearing my inner and computer voice. Most of my writing is now done at my house and my writing breaks consist of playing with Madge or listening to an audio book. Breaks now serve more as an acknowledgement that I achieved an editor's deadline or writing goal for the day. I also find that taking breaks to stretch or get a snack can reduce writer's block. For editing, I rely on spell check, my writing group, and mentors in the San Francisco literary community. Writing in the dark definitely requires a deeper level of concentration that allows me to see my writing utensils not as tools, but extensions of my body and mind.

Belo Cipriani writes both creative non-fiction and short fiction across several genres with the help of adaptive technology. To read and edit, he uses a talking computer that runs a screen reader called JAWS and a talking dictionary device called Franklin.

Belo holds a Masters Degree in English with an emphasis in Creative Writing from Notre Dame de Namur University, where he studied under award winning poet Jacqueline Berger and fiction writer Kerry Dolan.

He is heavily involved with the San Francisco literary community and is a member of Litquake, The California Writers Club, and a contributing writer for Bay Area publications. Belo and his guide dog Madge live in San Francisco. Learn more at http://blindamemoir.com/.

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