Different Paths (WFMAD Day 25)

One of the many, many things I love about writing is that there are virtually no restrictions to what you can do. Wanna make it up? Awesome! How about a recount of a true story? Perfect! Wanna talk more about yourself? No problemo, that's what autobiographies and memoirs are for! You can write novels, short stories, poems, plays, movies, TV shows, memoirs, biographies, how-to books, newspaper and magazine articles, comics, video game storylines...there is absolutely no limit.

Something I often like to do, when I start reading a new author, is read their little "About the Author" blurb. I like learning a little about the authors I'm reading--where they grew up, what their family is like, what else they've written...and, more importantly, how they got to where they are.

Because that, you see, is the most important limitless thing there is about writing. There is no "one way" to get there; you cannot google a step-by-step process to getting published. There are different ways of getting your story to the public; getting an agent, self-publishing, putting it on Amazon as an ebook. There are no restrictions or qualifications--all you need is passion, imagination, and, well, a finished story.

Is it possible to learn something if you take some creative writing courses? Yes! Can majoring in English Literature help you? Totally! But it can go the opposite direction, too.

I struggled with my initial decision to take English in school. I used to like English, really I did. But as I got older--particularly when the course name changed from "ELA" to "English Lit"--my fondness of the subject diminished more and more, until it eventually fizzled out into nothing. I never enjoyed the analytical portion of English--the part where you seemingly over-analyze every little word in an old book that you couldn't ever possibly care less about. (Did you know that the last time I read something for English I enjoyed was in 10th grade? 10th grade! We read like a million other books in class after that.)

I know it's probably weird, the fact that I hate English so much (with every fiber of my being, in case you weren't already aware). I mean, I like writing. I like reading. But even though English is composed of those two things, it is completely different, at least for me. I'm reading stories that I, quite frankly, hate beyond belief, and writing analytical essays that are composed of nothing but beaucrap. Two semesters of taking English in university, and not once did I ever have any idea what I was talking about in any of my essays. I was just making it up as I went. (How I managed to pull off an 80 in that class, I'll never know.)

I've heard time and time again that taking English Literature courses are supposed to "help" my writing, but truthfully, I didn't learn anything. Not. A. Thing.

I've considered applying to another school. I've thought about searching for schools with bigger creative writing programs; that actually offer enough that I can take it for four years. I know I'd enjoy it, and it could very well lift my writing to levels I can't even imagine.

But when I really, really think about it...I'm not sure if I really want to. Not right now, anyway.

Right now, I have other plans. Plans that involve my friends; some of the people I care the most in the world for. If I were to travel across the country, to attend one of the few schools I've found that allow programs I'm genuinely interested in...I'd be leaving my friends behind. Right now, that's not what I want. I'm not ready for that.

I don't need to follow some special path to reach what I want; what I've dreamed of for so long. And that's the best part--I can reach it my own way, be it through university or something else entirely.


Until later,

- Justyne