Walking with a bright-eyed group of prospective students in April 2023, I remember feeling amazed by Emory University.
“What is your favorite Emory tradition?” I asked the student tour guide, who launched into an explanation of his chosen event: Wonderful Wednesday. He explained how, every week, the event brings together student organizations and administration in a low-stress setting to create a vibrant community. I was enamored, and like many other rising freshmen, dreamed of attending as many Wonderful Wednesdays as I could. Unfortunately, over the course of my freshman and sophomore years, I attended fewer than five. Luckily for me, one of those five visits introduced me to an incredible new opportunity to share my love for writing with the Emory community.
My writing journey has not been a smooth one. In fact, serendipity has colored my entire journey as a writer. My passion for poetry may have never begun without my fourth-grade homeroom teacher, Lance Brinkman, who decided to spend a week teaching poetry to our class. It was during this week that I wrote my first real poem, “Black” (2015), which explored how one color could be beautiful and terrifying. I was bored and decided to turn 0ur 16-line poetry writing assignment into a 32-line rhyming work. In doing that assignment, I fell in love with how poems layer meaning and how I could express myself through poetic pursuits.
As my passion grew, I began taking weekly local classes with 2025 Austin Poet Laureate finalist Usha Akella, an acclaimed published author and co-founder of the Matwaala South Asian Diaspora Poets’ Collective. Under her guidance, I entered competitions and began writing a poetry book. The summer before I came to Emory, Kallisto Gaia Press published my chapbook, “Elements.” I was ecstatic to see the fruit of three years of concentrated writing and two years of editing in my hands, but I also found myself in a creative rut throughout the summer of 2023. As I adjusted to life at Emory, my dry spell in writing continued.
In a blink, a year had passed, and I had not written a single new poem. Half-baked lines lay abandoned on my notes app, and my not-quite-poems Google document sparkled like snow with nary a word. Academic and social commitments took up all my time, and I was constantly on the run. Wednesdays were especially busy days for me — I had class for most of the afternoon and spent the rest of the day working at Emory’s Winship Cancer Institute.
Wonderful Wednesdays were uncharted territory for me until a bright October morning sophomore year when my professor canceled class at the last minute. My Winship supervisor had also sent me on break as I prepared to study abroad. With unexpected time on my hands, I decided to check out this famous Emory tradition. At the very least, I supposed I could stock up on free pens.
As I wandered through the tables, I stopped to talk to every single club and organization representative. I had not even realized some of these groups existed. After picking up some free books from an Emory librarian, I came across the TEDxEmory booth. TEDxEmory was promoting their next event, something called Art Talks. I did not think much of it, but I added the group to a long list of Emory clubs I follow on Instagram.
Almost two weeks later, a stroke of luck struck as I was scrolling through my Instagram feed and a bright pink flyer caught my eye. Posted by TEDxEmory, the flyer advertised the Art Talks speaker applications. While I love public speaking and wanted to share my thoughts on art, I did not think I deserved to apply — after all, I was not a real artist, rather just a hobbyist. While I had given two TEDx Talks before in high school, both had focused on my computational research and were inspired by my passion for medicine. When asked what I was passionate about, my mind jumped to computational oncology, and when asked what words described me, I said “scientist” or “researcher.” I never thought of the word artist in relation to myself. Did I even qualify as a poet after a year of empty papers?
The application for Art Talks was short, so, shrugging and wondering why not, I filled it out. A few days later, I was shocked to be selected for an interview. Shortly afterward, I was selected as a speaker. Originally, I doubted that I even qualified to apply, but the TEDxEmory organizers had faith in me, and I decided to give it my best shot. I spoke about finding art in everyday experiences, from the way the sunlight falls to the smallest smiles you share with friends, and how creating art is not limited to traditional artists. Standing on stage, I could not stop smiling when the audience began clapping — and not for Sara the scientist, but for Sara the poet. As I reclaimed my identity as an artist, I bloomed.
As I explore who I am as a writer, I continue to grow and change. Just when it seems like I have outgrown writing or that my poetry-writing days are done, serendipity strikes. My life will always be colored by the mosaic of my artistic soul because I know how to take advantage of poetic timing.
Contact Sara Garg at sgarg47@emory.edu.
