Most children who grew up in Appalachia can tell you how to catch a salamander.
It’s an undeniable art form most don’t have the patience or use for. Some might even call it pointless, seeing as how the only thing we’d do with the slick little creatures once they're caught is put them in a Solo cup full of creek water for observation and then turn them loose.
For me personally, there’s not a definable use for catching salamanders, beyond learning patience and the chance to see something miraculous for a brief moment before it’s out of your hands.
Catching salamanders is a lot like being a writer.
In my life, writing isn’t what most would call a necessity. I don’t have a contract or professional deadline I’m under. Half the time, when I sit down to write, I don’t even know what to say. I just know I want something on the page. There’s a need deep in my DNA to get up close to beauty, to hold it—however fleeting—in the palms of my hands.