by BPL Writer-in-Residence Cynthia Amoah
A farewell note from Cynthia Amoah, celebrating libraries, language, and the creative power of community.
For as long as I’ve been a writer, even before I knew I was one, libraries have been my creative sanctuaries. I can trace the roots of my love for language back to the quiet corners of the Columbus Metropolitan Library (Reynoldsburg branch) as a high school student, the stillness of the Newcomb Reading Room at my alma mater, Binghamton University, where I worked as a student assistant, and countless other libraries where I’ve paused to read, reflect, or simply breathe.
It was in these spaces, surrounded by towering shelves and the soft hush of collective focus, that I first fell in love with the beauty of words.
I often found myself tucked into secret nooks, hopeful corners between book stacks, chasing silence like a muse. In those quiet moments, I wasn’t just reading. I was discovering how language could hold me, challenge me, and open the door to something much larger: my voice.
Now, years later, as I close out my time as the inaugural Writer-in Residence at Bexley Public Library, I see clearly how those early library experiences prepared me for this role. The truth is, I never stopped reading and writing in the stacks. I simply started inviting others to join me.
Where the Quiet Led Me
During this residency, I had the privilege of leading writing workshops that spanned age, genre, and voice. We explored memory in Story Seeds, found rhythm in the outdoors through Words in the Wild, unearthed identity in the youth workshop Write On!, and translated art into language in Writing in the Frame.
What struck me most was how writing became communal—a shared act of creation and vulnerability. Moments of surprise and growth surfaced regularly: a hesitant young writer discovering a new voice, an adult embracing a story they never thought they could tell, a senior daring to write again.
Each session was also a lesson in the power of listening. To really hear one another’s words was our way of building empathy, sparking inspiration, and transforming a room into a community.
Each workshop reminded me of what I discovered back in high school: silence isn’t empty. It’s full of waiting. It’s where stories gather before they’re ready to be told.
Where We Found Ourselves
There’s something profound about writing in a public space. In a library, you’re surrounded by stories, not just in the books, but in the people sitting quietly nearby. The Bexley community reminded me again and again that writing doesn’t have to be a solitary act. It can be something we do together, with generosity, vulnerability, and joy.
At Word of Mouth, our community open mic night, we brought words to life. There were nerves and applause, stumbles and soaring moments. All of it made the experience whole and alive.
The library served as a catalyst for these connections, creating a safe space where creativity could flourish across generations, backgrounds, and experiences.
Where the Page Opens to Everyone
Too often, people imagine that creativity only happens behind closed doors, in studios or quiet bedrooms, far from daily life. But I believe writing belongs right here, in shared spaces like Bexley Public Library, where life is actively unfolding.
Because libraries:
- Level the playing field. (You don’t need a degree or a publisher to write here—just a notebook and a willingness to show up).
- Encourage exploration. (Every program I led began with a question, not an answer).
- Connect people. (Across age, experience, and background, we gathered and grew together).
Where the Story Goes On
From the Newcomb Reading Room to the sunlit library in Bexley, libraries have been the steady backdrop to my journey as a writer and poet. They gave me the quiet I needed to hear my own voice, and later, the platform I needed to help others find theirs.
As I close this chapter, I do so with deep gratitude—for the library staff (esp. Zach Parish) who made this residency possible, the artist collaborators who joined me and enriched each event, and every person who came to write, listen, and share. I hope the work we created together continues to echo through these walls.
To the next BPL Writer-in-Residence: this residency is not just about writing your own story, but about creating space for others to find and share theirs. Listen deeply, invite boldly, and know that the library is a powerful open door for creativity and community.
To you: wherever you are, geographically or creatively, I hope you write.
But if you’re nearby, I especially hope you write here.
Optional Writing Prompt: “Where You Are”
Think about a physical place that has shaped you—a room, a street, a library, a kitchen table, a bus stop.
Write a short piece (poem, reflection, or story) that begins with the words:
“I didn’t expect that this would be the place where I found my…”
Let the memory guide you. And most of all, write where you are.
With kind gratitude,
Cynthia
