I don’t know if this is apparent to anyone, but I actually have never taken a formal writing class.
All of my writing is trained through research papers and that bullshit regurgitation they make you do before you’re old enough to write research papers.
This semester I took a creative non-fiction course. For those unfamiliar with the genre it’s like literary blogging, but without the computer and less pictures.
The way the course works is you read some similar works to what you’ll be creating, then you write a piece and bring it to class where you read it aloud and everyone critiques you.
I was slotted to go first yesterday but I pulled a Hannah Horvath and was super late for class which set a mood of greater anxiety.
Being work shopped is like being walked up to a stage where you know everyone is going to be throwing rocks at you, but when you get there it turns out their more hard foam, rather than rocks. It’s uncomfortable, but after it’s over you feel a little bit stronger for having sat through it.
For me there are few bigger fears than someone outright telling me my writing sucks. Mostly because if I’m not decent at it, then I’m not sure what I’m working for in life anymore.
If we’re being honest, after people started critiquing my work my face turned bright red and I thought for a moment I would cry.
I’m not normally a particularly sensitive person about school work and I am a shocking good speech giver, but having someone read my “story” and then rip it apart was hard.
Turns out I have a lot of growing to do as a creative writer.
However, several people compared me to David Sedaris so I’m going to hold close to that highest of high compliments and keep working.