Mel Tackles Literature: May 2009

Saturday, May 23, 2009

I'm Finished

Aha! My snobbery has faltered in these last few weeks, as I hadn't bothered to keep up the blog. This is mostly because last semester was immensely more exciting than this spring 2009 semester. Honestly, last semester I chased an unrequited crush, understood the importance and connection between literary theory and film, and wrote some of the best pieces of fiction that I had ever written in my entire life (up until that point, anyway).

The time has come to announce that I have finally graduated from college. I have that elusive baccalaureate degree (technically, in about four to six weeks, I'll have it!). The question that comes to pass is: "now what?" Shall I decorate my cardboard box to live in? A true artist would do so to stand out from all the other boxed artists lined up in our makeshift Hoovervilles bred from doe-eyed dream-chasing.

I chose to follow my passion. In these bleak contemporary mindset, which is quite often, mocking and cynical, some would question a student's sanity for even daring to go towards a direction that had no guarantees. What I see from that, rather, is character. If someone even has the gall to dare, then I applaud that person. This is a person who believes in passion, wants to shape him/herself into being well-rounded, one who yearns for artistic and/or intellectual pursuits, and wishes to experience the best of what life has to offer. Whether that be travel, helping and teaching others, entertaining, or to be daring for daring's sake, then that's beautiful.

Let us begin quickly with a short journey and what I have/have not accomplished. I am writing this mainly to humor myself, and so that I will have something to look back upon when I think of my last two years of college.

My first creative workshop at CSUN, which was approximately one year ago during a summer session, I had been grappling with the ideas and concepts of creative writing and the literary theory behind it. I didn't realize there were terms that writers needed to be conscious of. I just wrote and mimicked what I had read in books. I also visualized what I wanted to write, playing it through my mind like a scene in a movie that I would try to regurgitate in words. I hadn't realized that creative writing was much more than copying what authors wrote in books or trying to describe the movie in my mind. That, like anything, I had to break it down with fundamentals.

The professor said to us on the first day of class, "I want to unsettle you."

One of our first exercises was to write one sentence--only one--and begin building on it. It was called Burrowing. From the prof's assignment:

I had become a sentence-thinker, my whole process of writing transformed from a hard, weird struggle to describe a set of fixed ideas floating somewhere, as it seemed, inside my head, to one in which the ideas grew out of the writing in the moment of its coming into being. Charged by their own imperative and grace, they seemed to unfold as if out of the sentences themselves. This is not some literary mysticism. It is how language works, what it is.
WTF right? I was definitely un-freaking-settled the entire time in that class. She said the exact same thing I had written above (except more academic-y). This way of thinking about writing felt unconventional (yet seemingly natural and 100% conventional at the same time!). If you think about it, we do not have premeditated conversations planned in our head. When we interact with one another, or even when we think, we jump from one sentence or thought to the next. It's spontaneous.

So take one sentence. Here, I'll write one right now: She liked roses best, but only in the coldness of winter.

What should come next? Anything! And this lesson taught me how to truly write. When the words fall freely on the page, one after the other, in a completely mellifluous way, there is such rhythm and cadence that gives the writing a natural flow. Nothing will seem forced or contrived. If I never remembered another creative writing exercise, I will still always remember this one because it has shaped my writing for good.

Next sentence: The winter concealed her with its gray shadows.

Now the writer has raised all these questions. Why only roses? What's the significance of the gray shadows? Who's "she," and does she have a name? Thus, a story unfolds, easily placing layers and complexity into the narrative naturally, without trying too hard or forcing it.

So...what was the point in all of this? Well...basically, I was trying to brainstorm ideas for writing my Statement of Purpose for grad school, and it turned into this half-teaching, half-reminiscing session about one of the most awesome lessons ever learned while at CSUN. LOL. :)