By David Shapiro

One of my favorite times each spring and fall is when Lorna Hershinow invites me to meet with her advanced argument writing classes at the University of Hawai'i.

The students are challenging and impressive. Many work in their spare time to encourage high school students to read through Hershinow's Celebrate Teen Reading program, which hosts an annual gathering May 1 at UH to bring young readers together with prominent authors. (Contact Hershinow for information at lornah@lava.net.)

The writing students keep me up to date about what's on the minds of young people — Iraq, the death penalty, healthy diets, "The Passion of the Christ," no-smoking rules in local taverns, college athletics vs. academics, mutilation of cats.

I also get a sense of what students are reading these days, which I hope will enable me to write to young interests more often.

It seems graphic literature — a fancy name for grossly expensive comic books — is popular, a worrisome development for a writer such as myself who can't draw a lick.

Literature that aims to find truth by blending fact and fiction is gaining in acceptance, even in the wake of scandals involving fabricated stories by writers such as Jayson Blair at the New York Times and Jack Kelley at USA Today.

I'm invited mainly to talk about writing. I've studied and taught writing all of my life and can expound on the essential structure of virtually any written communication. I've read the Chicago Manual of Style cover to cover, all 900-plus pages of small print.

I falter, though, when I'm asked my personal writing process — where my ideas come from and how I shape them into finished articles.

The truth is, I don't know. If I'm lucky, a creative thought process just sort of happens.

It's why I like meeting these classes. The more times I have to answer the question, the better my chances of eventually figuring it out.

That's the Holy Grail of my business, to discover a repeatable formula that can consistently wring articulate words from a tortured soul without the usual blood, sweat and tears.

This year, I may have come as close to answering the question as ever when a student asked about how I overcome writer's block.

I replied that I never allow myself to stare at a blank computer screen waiting for inspiration to come.

I prod the muse along by always keeping my fingers moving on the keyboard, even if the only coherent thought coming out of my brain is my grocery list.

If I keep typing, soon enough rough ideas about the subject I wish to address will appear on the screen.

Before I know it, I'll have twice as many words as I need to fill a column. Then writing becomes editing, and it's a matter of simply trusting that my instincts and experience will mold the disjointed thoughts into an intelligible whole.

"You're a bit of an optimist, aren't you?" one of the students said.

That's when my insight about the writing process hit.

One definition of an optimist is a kid who, when confronted with the chore of shoveling an enormous pile of horse manure, says, "Hot dog! There must be a pony in there somewhere!"

That, in a nutshell, is my writing formula. I shovel up a big pile of manure and have faith that if I excavate deep enough, I'll uncover the pony.

But ultimately, it's for readers to decide if there's a pony to be found under the manure. Happy digging.

David Shapiro can be reached at dave@volcanicash.net.