Upon entering university I realized two things:
1) This is not Kansas anymore...
2) I would have to start writing in a different way to please my instructors
All of my elementary school life had been spent writing in my own voice: interposing ideas and opinions, and putting some of myself in my writing. When writing from the point of view of a character, they would have their own voice too. I was the 18th century editorial narrator and I could also switch to the omniscient narrator using the active voice with very little adjectives littered about. In high school I learned to write for different audiences while still being distinctly ME. I wrote cover letters, I wrote essays, poems, stories-- I wrote everything under the sun. Whenever I wrote I would be guided to improve my grammar, to choose better words, to fix my punctuation and to be more concise. All elements to make me a better-rounded writer and which have helped me over the years.
Enter university life and suddenly everything familiar about my writing was being slaughtered and torn apart. What went wrong? Maybe it was because of my lack of grammar knowledge. On I went to learn about clauses, modifiers, and proper punctuation.
Enter creative writing classes. While everyone was busy writing realistic fiction I was feverishly writing fantasy and magic realism. While everyone was connecting with the characters who were having "real life experiences" I became embarrassed to stand up and tell everyone about my personified sparrow who was bringing messages to the ex-pilot in prison. I could only choke out my story about the 18th century
French woman who had allegedly murdered her English husband and the estrangement between her and her daughter. My professor would always find something to nitpick about my writing. He labelled it as unrealistic just because I wasn't writing about separated lovers, about coercive/abusive relationships and from his point of view, I wasn't really writing what I knew. I'm sorry I did not live to your expectation of writing about an exotic Arab family with problems. Just because you tell me "you have a beautiful Middle Eastern background you can explore" does not mean I am going to write about something for you to fetishize. What I know is parent-child relationships like my historical fiction story about a girl coming to terms with her parent's past and accepting it as not a definition of her personality. What I like is magic realism like that associated with the ex-pilot and his mysterious origins. But that was not acceptable to my prof and in the end I wrote about a girl whose boyfriend cheated on her. A story that I wrote with barely any exerted effort received an A+. My other well-plotted stories received C's and B-'s.
French woman who had allegedly murdered her English husband and the estrangement between her and her daughter. My professor would always find something to nitpick about my writing. He labelled it as unrealistic just because I wasn't writing about separated lovers, about coercive/abusive relationships and from his point of view, I wasn't really writing what I knew. I'm sorry I did not live to your expectation of writing about an exotic Arab family with problems. Just because you tell me "you have a beautiful Middle Eastern background you can explore" does not mean I am going to write about something for you to fetishize. What I know is parent-child relationships like my historical fiction story about a girl coming to terms with her parent's past and accepting it as not a definition of her personality. What I like is magic realism like that associated with the ex-pilot and his mysterious origins. But that was not acceptable to my prof and in the end I wrote about a girl whose boyfriend cheated on her. A story that I wrote with barely any exerted effort received an A+. My other well-plotted stories received C's and B-'s.
I decided to try out one more creative writing class but I never did change my mind about them. Everyone found me eccentric for writing fantasy. I was "funnyyyyyyyyyy" for writing a story about a lucid dreamer. In the online discussions my otherness was accentuated and I was labelled as 'that girl who has a huge imagination'. This pseudo-derogatory term was something I was supposed to accept because when I questioned it I became someone who misunderstood tone on an online discussion forum. Of course. Why should I defend myself when made inferior to what is seen as more worthy writing? Excuse me while I brush up on my guide to real life writing. I do not hate realistic fiction. However I don't see magic realism and historical fiction (among many other genres) as any less worthy of praise. The story of an individual finding their way through adolescence could be explored with high school trauma and other elements from real life experiences. But there are no rules that say I can't use a fictitious backdrop against which I can lay these struggles and have a character develop in a fantasy world just as well as they would in a high school in some part of the Americas.
I am slowly finding my way back to things I love.After shoving the inclination away for so long I've come to realize that there is nothing wrong with writing the genres I love reading. I can become a better storyteller through clarification of character intent and by plotting better-- I don't need to get rid of the imaginary worlds I've made up. The little notes with story ideas strewn over my desk can become pages of great books that others can flip through and enjoy reading and picking apart as much as I will enjoy writing them. The struggle to quell my voice is over because mine is just as good as any other. It's time to write.
I am slowly finding my way back to things I love.After shoving the inclination away for so long I've come to realize that there is nothing wrong with writing the genres I love reading. I can become a better storyteller through clarification of character intent and by plotting better-- I don't need to get rid of the imaginary worlds I've made up. The little notes with story ideas strewn over my desk can become pages of great books that others can flip through and enjoy reading and picking apart as much as I will enjoy writing them. The struggle to quell my voice is over because mine is just as good as any other. It's time to write.
