Failed Experiments

Right now I am currently in the process of revising my piece, taking in Alex's suggestions. Another important criticism he gave me that I forgot to mention in my last blog post was my often incorrect use of complex vocabulary words.

Reflecting upon this comment, I wondered why I felt this need to use outrageous vocabulary. Was I trying to prove some sort of intellectual superiority? Or was I simply trying to see if I could use fancy vocabulary words for the fun of it? I realized, the answer was likely both. I view my work as an experiment. I see words in my readings, or in the thesaurus, and I want to use them. The problem is, I often don't know how.

I had two problems with incorrect diction. The first was a problem were I simply used a word incorrectly. For example, in one of my sentences I said

I acquired a collection of anachronistic facts which I could barely comprehend; the capital, the currency, the anthem.

This sentence is slightly revised so the grammar isn't great anyway. But more importantly, the word anachronistic was used inaccurately. I intended for the word to mean random, but anachronistic actually means out of sequence. So the above sentence is essentially nonsense.

The other problem I had was I would often use strong vocabulary words to describe something I didn't actually feel very passionately about. For example,

It was what he told me next that pierced my heart in a way that was irrevocable, and changed my outlook in a way that was irreversible.

At first when I wrote this sentence, I thought "wow that's so cool!" But here's pretty much what I meant to say.

It was what he told me next that surprised me, and opened me up to a different way of thinking.

Another example. I wrote this.

He made the desperately potent statement that would echo in my mind for months.

This is what I meant to say.

His sad statement left a strong impression on me.

Not quite so intense. But also, not nearly as ridiculous.

Although at first I felt embarrassed by my blatant writing errors, but then I felt better knowing that I least tried to use mature writing. I did an experiment, and it failed. Now I know for the future, and I'm happy for that. I'm going to attempt rewriting my sentences in a way that effectively combines metaphor and blatant feelings. Hopefully, this experiment will be more successful than the last one.

Workshop: Writing 2

I know the writing workshop was over a week ago, but I figure it would be good to respond to it anyhow.

I don't know why I was afraid of criticism. When people came to review my pieces, I found that I actually came to crave criticism. I wanted as much criticism as possible, so I could know everything was wrong. I was flattered by the compliments, but in the back of my head I was screaming "Tell me what's wrong!"

When Alex gave his critiques, I came to a strange sort of realization.

Although I had gone in believing that I wrote a piece of creative non-fiction, I began to feel like I had instead created some sort of psychological profile of myself. My writing was an explanation of my feelings and my inner conflicts. It was so honest, I don't feel particularly comfortable talking about it openly, so I'm sorry if this blog post is super vague.

Now, it's obvious my art is much about myself. All art is autobiographical. Especially creative non-fiction, which is quite literally, autobiographical art.

The thing is, when I received critique for my writing, I felt like I was receiving some sort of therapy. It's hard to describe. Somehow, the criticisms that Alex offered for my writing were indirectly words of advice for how I should handle my dilemmas.

For example, he said that I needed to keep my feelings consistant throughout the story. In my piece, I had a dichotomy between pitying and revering the people I interacted with. I wanted to believe that I had respected my friends throughout my piece. In truth, I had pitied them. It was clearly evident in my writing, but I did not realize it, because I never admitted it to myself. I can lie, but my writing can't. This new perspective not only changed my outlook on my writing, but also it changed my outlook on my life and my choices. Perhaps I have been too subjective towards myself, and that clouds my judgment.

An important aspect of creative non-fiction is to recognize that your story took place in the past, and in that past, you had different feelings than you do now. You were likely more foolish then. This makes you reluctant to be honest in your writing, because you don't want to admit that you were once immature, or wrong.

What can help you cope with your past humiliations is to realize that you are a different person now. You are more knowledgable than you were then. If you admit that, you can move on.

I hope to add a reflection to my piece in order to cope with these feelings. Even if I don't end up including it, I will feel a lot better know that I was honest to my feelings at the time and honest to my feelings now.

And maybe if I can develop a mature view on the situation, I will be able to decipher it more effectively and fix some of my issues.

Workshop: Writing 1

I think it's safe to assume that after taking a workshop I must blog about it. I think this is very safe to assume because I am taking a writing workshop.

Before the workshop, Luke sent us a radio play in which an English teacher talked about how she made her students write pieces to "reveal the darkest depths of your soul." This gave me the preconception that we were all going to share our pieces and cry together in some emotionally intense, falsified bonding experience. Thankfully, this did not actually happen. The workshop was more along the lines of what would be expected.

During the workshop, we mainly focused on the discussion of writing pieces and the topic of creative non-fiction. Alex Tunney passed around a writing piece he created about his childhood snacking habits, which he told us to mark up and note upon. I read though it and at first, I wasn't sure if this was an invitation to critique the piece. Once Alex clarified that it was, I took it upon myself to mark it up the way I generally critique my own writing: intently and objectively.

I didn't feel I was carrying myself away, but there was a clear difference between the Picasso-like art piece I had created upon my paper and the sparse notes upon everyone else's. I think many of us were shy to critique, because we did not feel as if we had the authority to correct our teacher, especially on our first day meeting him. I considered this, and came to the conclusion that whatever critique I could offer, as long as it was proactive, could not be any worse than what Alex has received as an English major in college.

One important thing that I've learned about education is that in order to fully take advantage of a good teacher, you must actively engage with them. Therefore, I wasn't afraid to speak up and participate. I also figured that if I could help start a discussion or two, it would pave a way for everyone else to participate. It's always difficult to be the first person to speak, but lately I've been finding that I play that role frequently. Some people tell me I "wear the pants." As long as they're feminine pants I'm alright with that.

So after reading through Alex's piece, he moderated a discussion about it both as a teacher and as the writer of the piece. We began with compliments, because those are always the easiest to warm the waters with. I liked a number of the metaphors he used, and as a whole, I thought it he had created a decent piece of writing.

Soon though, the discussion moved into the realm of critique. I think many fear critiquing others because they can see the same critiques being used upon themselves. Although many acknowledge that critique is helpful, I think it takes a while for a person to accept critiques without being personally hurt, especially with something as blatant and vulnerable as writing. I admit, I am afraid of others critiquing my art, but I am willing to face this fear because I know it is an irrational one that I ought to overcome if I am to progress.

Once the discussion started flowing, everyone was engaged. A number of people made some good points about literary devices and grammar. We didn't have much to say about the theme of the piece or it's overall cohesiveness, although it seemed like Alex was attempting to aim the discussion in that direction. It was difficult for me to discuss the purpose because I couldn't quite think of one worthy of putting into words. To me, the story seemed like an entertaining tale about Alex's eating habits developing overtime. I didn't see anything wrong with having that just as it was.

At the end of the workshop we all received books of creative non-fiction to read. I happened to end up with the one called How to Be Inappropriate by Daniel Nester, featuring a lovely cover of a man sticking his thumb out of his fly in order to make it look like a penis.

I hear there's an interesting story about feet licking

In addition to reading from our books, we have to send our pieces to each other for critique. Reading Alex's writing piece gave me comfort in sharing mine, but I am nervous for the next workshop where we share our critiques. Although I thought my piece was generally well written and coherent, I didn't get as much time to revise it as I would've liked, and I also had a lot of trouble finding a clear purpose within it. I don't know how an audience will interpret it. Also, I feel vaguely embarrassed by it, but I'm not quite sure why because it doesn't include anything about me that's particularly embarrassing.

In addition, I hope that I don't end up writing to harshly upon other people's pieces. I won't let that stop me, because often my edits have been able to help people. I went through 2 drafts of my brother's college essay and he made it into RIT early decision, so I'm probably doing something right.

At any rate, I'm excited for the next workshop, and I'm glad that we're building an artistic community.