Prompt: Write about the first time you felt drawn to make something.
Hey folks,
The prompt for today, June 1st, 2026, is: write about the first time you felt drawn to make something.
Thinking about this, I can’t really remember making anything as a kid. I remember chasing my dad around with a toolbox because he used to fix TVs and VCRs and all sorts of other electronics. I’d follow him to people’s houses or watch him fixing things there. He had a workshop in the basement, which we weren’t actually allowed to go into, but there were always parts and tools around. I remember that.
I guess the first thing I really remember making would be the frame for a hammock in my first apartment in Montreal when I was going to school. It was a bachelor suite, and I built this frame for a hammock we’d bought in Mexico the summer before. That was probably the first time I made something substantial. I kept it there — actually, I think I left it there when I moved out.
Moving forward through the years, I don’t know that I made much until I started playing with cardboard, funnily enough, maybe ten or twelve years ago. I remember making a foosball table out of cardboard, which I thought was a lot of fun.
Then I picked up Lego and started building all sorts of kits. I’ve still got bins full of it. That sort of quietly led into other things, though there were periods where it all faded into the background.
Then I started making food. I was getting those HelloFresh boxes and really enjoying the process of cooking.
And then one day, I was talking to my dad about how he used to cut marble in Pakistan. Around that same time, I must have been watching YouTube and came across pen turning. I ordered a pen turning kit, bought a lathe, and off we went. That was the beginning of my woodworking journey.
While I can’t remember always making physical things, I still feel like I was making something. Maybe that’s because I was writing, and that felt like making too.
I think, interestingly enough, my parents wanted us to be successful — and rightly so. They came to Canada with very little, if anything, and worked incredibly hard to make sure my sister and I had a good life.
Because of that, they encouraged us toward security. Not because they were against creativity, but because they wanted stability for us. Teaching, engineering, professions where if you get the job, there’s a certain steadiness to it.
The arts, craft, making, building — those carry risk. You don’t know if you’re going to make it.
I think this maker part of me has always been there, latent. I don’t know if “suppressed” is the right word, but it wasn’t active until I was secure enough through teaching to finally take that risk.
So maybe it’s been a slow burn.
Anyway, you can find this prompt and more at Letters’ Lounge.
I’d love to hear your thoughts in response to this, or to hear your own story. Share a link to your blog or audio journal, or leave something in the comments.
Alright folks, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
This transcript was lightly cleaned up with the help of AI to improve readability while preserving the original voice and intent of the recording.
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