The Writing Center magical black hole

By Paige Waskow

My theory about the Writing Center is that there is some sort of magical black hole that brings together all the weird and random that Coe has to offer. The conversations, the food (whether from Tuesday Tea or someone’s leftovers), the whiteboard drawings and writing, to mention a few, make the Writing Center itself as much as the actual writing consulting that happens. I’d like the time to reflect on this microcosm on campus and how spaces like this can be a catalyst for creativity and change in the college experience.

Walking into the Writing Center, you never know what you are going to find on the tables or around the room. Last week, for instance, there was an instrument case by the Beaver desk for days. There were mini sphere-shaped donuts. There were new plants and random papers. The walls were and are still decorated with memes and animals. My point is that someones’ lost item, leftover or new food, trash, or whiteboard doodles bring character and questions to the Writing Center. Who does this belong to? Can I eat this? Should I eat this? Can I throw this away? Will anyone be sad if I erase this?

The collection of random items inherently starts conversation and a further sense of community to both consultants and writers. It creates a more relaxed environment. Last year before I was a consultant, for instance, coming in for a conference was a little bit less intimidating when I was given free food. Emma Hodges and I joke that when we don’t want or need something, it should go to the Writing Center. And normally, it does (she donated a berry fruit tea that’s sitting with the other teas as I write this).

Besides simply going to the Writing Center for work or a conference, people come here for lots of reasons. The magical black hole brings people to see friends, to steal food, to look for office supplies, to procrastinate. You name it. And normally, they leave something with the Writing Center in return. A simple need to hole-punch some papers turns into a 20 minute conversation about a roommates’ cat. Sometimes, a friend will pop in to say “Happy Wednesday,” regardless of if it is actually Wednesday (because, if you really think about it every day kinda feels like Wednesday). One might stop in to grab yet another jolly rancher, apologize, listen to the Beaver remind them that’s it’s definitely okay - and suddenly, a little piece of connection, of community is created.

Conservations stick around in the Writing Center. People get loud and enthusiastic as they recall memories of old conversations whether from a day or a year ago. As much as it is our job as consultants to consult writing, we also have found a way to foster a time capsule of verbal stories. And I think that is pretty rad.

As we move forward as a Writing Center and continue our trek to consult writing, we must always keep in mind the power of community and of pure undiluted weirdness. The magical black hole that lives in the Writing Center is only meaningful if we support it (which is not really how black holes work but this one has complex feelings and is magical, bear with me on this metaphor). The opportunity to be welcoming, to question, and to bring anything you don’t want to the Writing Center is in of itself powerful and necessary. Yes, job number one is to support writers with that writing, but job number two is to let the weird thrive. It makes consulting much more rewarding, and it reminds anyone who steps through the door that you never really know what you’ll find on the other side.