Share any reflections from our 1st week together: thoughts on getting started in your writing journeys for 170, questions, anxieties, joys, poetic wanderings, etc….
Also feel free to share any in-class writings here.
8 thoughts on “Week 1 Takeaways”
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
I was initially more attached to writing about my own special object, but found myself writing more creatively about Flo’s sign, an object I had never seen before, than the knitted bunny a best friend gave me for my own birthday. I found that I like to be vague in my writing, leaving much to the interpretation of the reader; I’m wondering if this will change throughout the semester. As I tend to write mostly for myself, I enjoy leaving hints in the writing that only I will understand, but I wonder how my writing will adapt to a change in audience from just myself to the rest of the class. Anyhow, here’s my object story for Flo’s sign:
He gave it to me on a day in February – doesn’t matter what day. It was comprised of wooden slats, some aligned, some off-kilter, but all the same width and painted over. Three stars graced the center, yellow as the wheat in the fields around us, and the letters “F-L-O” were painted in italics across the top.
He never told me where he got it; simply handed it to me and pulled away in that big red pickup truck as he always did. His tires left tracks in the dirt, as they always did, and left dust in my eyes, as they always did. Only this time, it was the last they ever would.
I am really excited for this class, especially because I’ve never taken a creative writing class before (they weren’t offered in my high school)!
James Baldwin’s quote, “We write to find out what we don’t want to know,” struck me because I find this to be true. When I write about a painful or emotional memory in the past, all the old feelings flood back to me as well as all the details I’ve blocked from my mind. By writing something to reflect on that memory, such as a poem or a memoir, I am able to accept that what happened to me did happen and that it did affect me in some significant way. In a way, writing is therapeutic for me. Instead of ignoring the ugly moments in my past, I am able to create something special or beautiful out of them. I know this may sound odd, but I find it a lot easier to write about sad memories than happy ones, possibly because my emotions at that time were so much stronger and more rememberable.
It has been an absolute pleasure to write for this class; partly because I feel I am writing for myself, and not necessarily for class. Turning writing into a habit has me thinking about why I write and what is the difference it makes in my life. Although I have no concrete answer, I’d like to share some thoughts:
I feel writing is a powerful tool to seize the narrative of moments we cannot–or could not–control. It is revisiting, re-experiencing, only this time your voice dictates pace, tone, and ending. Life is made of facts, but as writer we have the power of fiction, the power of shaping our truth and reimagining our lives. If we look at Dillard’s “Living Like Weasels,” it is easy to see how a mundane moment becomes so much more when revisited and explored through the lens of the Self. Granted this process of self-revisionism can be daunting; there’s a reason why we leave some stories behind, but still I feel encouraged in this class to break that comfort barrier and launch myself into the could-have-beens, what-if-it-had-beens, how-will-it-bes of life.
To Maia’s point, I believe this too can become a shared practice. I feel so privileged to have access to the writings of all our class, so privileged to see different people, their motions, what makes them alive. These are the stories that matter.
I am looking forward to our creative process this semester!
I think writing is selfish. I think my writing is selfish, to be more accurate. Assumes I have something special to say. That I’m something special. But I remind myself I love reading. Someone’s (maybe selfish) writing will bring me loads of joy. And mostly it’s just the satisfaction of the story or even the ways the words sound in my head, a story doesn’t need to connect to me in anyway to get me going. My brain will circle around that story or sentence for days. And I remind myself I loved hearing everyone’s writing on Tuesday. The bibliographies that were all about you. And I’m not calling you all selfish, but I felt selfish writing on that index card. But your bibliographies covered my arms in goosebumps and again, my brain keeps circling around your stories and sentences. Maybe I should curse y’all out for occupying so much of my needed brain space, but I can only say thank you.
Reading Ann Lamott’s “Shitty First Drafts” reminded me of how I’m still wrestling with the fact that I’m allowed to, and definitely will, produce things that are shitty. I think it all comes part and parcel with being a writer—you have to dig around the shit and guts and gore to maybe get at something that is good, underneath it all. One of my biggest weaknesses as a writer is that I expect my first draft to be pristine. This paralyzes me before I can even put pen on paper because I would be so obsessed with starting it perfectly. I guess the only antidote to this is building habit. Just writing and writing until the gunk clears out and the pen flows a bit smoother. The practice of keeping a notebook and writing something down every day seems like a New Years Resolution I make every year, but this time it feels different. It’s almost reassuring, knowing that to some extent, I’ll be held accountable for this. Anyhow, if there’s one thing that’s certain it’s that in this class I’ll be using muscles I’ve hardly used before, and I’m excited to see where I can go as a writer from here.
Attempting to write from the perspective of the person who knows me “best” was odd. l felt self important writing it. That being said, I wrote from the perspective of an old friend who constantly analyzes my behavior. She pegged me unique long ago, and ever since has noted my actions, speech, pretty much every idiosyncrasy I have. Below is what I wrote in the 5 minutes allowed for this exercise.
Will Thompson, perhaps one of the most interesting people I know. He’s funny, and likes to laugh, possibly to a fault. He can go from kindest, to the cruelest, at the drop of a pin. Come to think of it, he is full of oxymorons. He is a sensitive jock, a wanna-be rapper from the suburbs, a smart man’s fool. The way I describe him, it would seem I don’t like this boy. I don’t. I just think about him a lot. He’s interesting.
I’ve been thinking about what it means to make writing a shared practice.
Since our first meeting, much of my motivation and inspiration to write has been stemming from physical closeness to the written stories we’ve considered. Printing out hard copies of our essays and poems keeps them in the front of my brain–they are never further than a quick reach into my backpack.
Because of their proximity, I’ve found myself sharing random paragraphs, lines, and sentences from these pieces with my friends throughout my day. I’m not seeking any specific reaction, but I find a weight in speaking the words out loud to someone else that deepens my connection with the text like nothing else. I think what I take away from this emerging habit is my desire to actively involve other people in my writing process. Stories are powerful when the author keeps them contained, but I am learning that drawing others into your orbit as a writer is what it’s all about.
Hey Maia,
I think you raise a really good point.
A few weeks ago, I started writing short stories. I kept them mostly to myself, thinking they were too personal, a part of me. Lately I began sharing my writing, though it was quite uncomfortable at first. I found that bouncing my work off friends, professors, and strangers is really helpful and insightful. Their interpretations revealed just how incredibly varied the emotional reactions to the same story can be, all depending on whether they personally connect to it or not. Their reactions could be the reality check I didn’t know I needed, or reaffirm that I was doing something right. Wherever our discussions ended up, I always left with a greater understanding of my own writing as well as a peek inside the mind of my reader. I too want to continue actively involving others in my writing process, for I don’t the think we should squander the insights we think we come to in our writing. You never know if your words could help somebody come to terms with an issue, or if your readers might help you discover things you never knew about yourself. Sharing our work helps us grow as writers, but more importantly grow as people!