At this point I've reached the halfway mark in my first writing class. I've finished my second piece and I have already experienced some serious highs and lows. It has been quite the ride so far.
What I'm in right now is technically a 100-level class. This makes it so there is a myriad of talented (and not-so-talented) students. Our professor is going through the publishing process herself right now, so while she is ahead of us on our career plans, I don't actually feel as much trepidation as I thought I would about getting my work graded by her.
What I'm about to say may make me seem really petty, but here it goes.
Our first two weeks were focused on introductions and poetry. I personally felt like I had a killer piece for this section. It moved, it dazzled, and it carried the intricately woven symbolism like a well-balanced woman carrying a basket on her head. It was the best piece of poetry I had ever done. I received minimal feedback on it though. It was as if I had spouted off some Shakespearian verse to a bunch of self-absorbed teenagers. They either didn't get it - or they didn't care.
We had a few free-write exercises too that were posted for review as well. I wasn't overly impressed with mine, but I was happy with how much I could see myself growing already. Then I read something another student wrote and I felt total despair. Her piece was truly amazing, and while she did admit that this wasn't her first rodeo (she'd been practicing for ten years, slowly tweaking her writing methods) I couldn't help but feel like I would never reach that point. I could never write like that.
My saving grace happened the next day. We have been reading Stephen King's, On Writing (a book I would highly recommend for writers). Having him show all his vulnerabilities along with wonderful pep talks really boosted me up again. I could do this.
In fact, it boosted me up so much that I went ahead and signed up for my second writing class. I have just enough time to squeeze in one more between my current class and the birth of our little girl. Here's the kicker though - it's technically a 400-level class. Wow, does that make me nervous all over again. Sometimes I think I'm crazy.
The past two weeks we have been focusing on creative non-fiction - something I've never tried before. Not quite as much of a roller coaster as the poetry, but still bouncing me around a bit. I've come to really like it. Who knows, maybe I'll pursue it even more on my own.
I have been impressed with my writing/editing process in this section though and how much it has already grown. I don't feel like I am stuck in my old one anymore - which makes me even more committed to see this thing through.
What I'm in right now is technically a 100-level class. This makes it so there is a myriad of talented (and not-so-talented) students. Our professor is going through the publishing process herself right now, so while she is ahead of us on our career plans, I don't actually feel as much trepidation as I thought I would about getting my work graded by her.
What I'm about to say may make me seem really petty, but here it goes.
Our first two weeks were focused on introductions and poetry. I personally felt like I had a killer piece for this section. It moved, it dazzled, and it carried the intricately woven symbolism like a well-balanced woman carrying a basket on her head. It was the best piece of poetry I had ever done. I received minimal feedback on it though. It was as if I had spouted off some Shakespearian verse to a bunch of self-absorbed teenagers. They either didn't get it - or they didn't care.
We had a few free-write exercises too that were posted for review as well. I wasn't overly impressed with mine, but I was happy with how much I could see myself growing already. Then I read something another student wrote and I felt total despair. Her piece was truly amazing, and while she did admit that this wasn't her first rodeo (she'd been practicing for ten years, slowly tweaking her writing methods) I couldn't help but feel like I would never reach that point. I could never write like that.
My saving grace happened the next day. We have been reading Stephen King's, On Writing (a book I would highly recommend for writers). Having him show all his vulnerabilities along with wonderful pep talks really boosted me up again. I could do this.
In fact, it boosted me up so much that I went ahead and signed up for my second writing class. I have just enough time to squeeze in one more between my current class and the birth of our little girl. Here's the kicker though - it's technically a 400-level class. Wow, does that make me nervous all over again. Sometimes I think I'm crazy.
The past two weeks we have been focusing on creative non-fiction - something I've never tried before. Not quite as much of a roller coaster as the poetry, but still bouncing me around a bit. I've come to really like it. Who knows, maybe I'll pursue it even more on my own.
I have been impressed with my writing/editing process in this section though and how much it has already grown. I don't feel like I am stuck in my old one anymore - which makes me even more committed to see this thing through.
