LITR 3731: Creative Writing
Student Journal / Portfolio Sample Submission 2003

William Frith

6. December. 2003

Journal of the Reluctant Writer

            I never aspired to be a writer.  In fact, growing up, I wanted to play baseball for a living.  I played little league, some in high school, and lost interest shortly after the first season.  I was not bad at all.  I just got bored with all of its masculine praises, extreme competition (between team mates), and yelling.  Then there was art.  I could draw well.  Everyone who knew me knew for sure that I was going to be an illustrator or an architect of some sort.  My father wanted me to be an architectural engineer.

Then, I made the mistake of picking up a guitar.  I found that “one thing” that I wanted to do.  I wanted to write songs.  This, of course, was a disappointing effort because most of my musically-inclined friends had started when they were very young.  I, on the other hand, was nineteen, and felt that I was too old to take on any new ventures (I was naïve, what can I say?).  So, between disappointments, I began reading anything I could, loving every ounce of information I took in.  Then, I found an old sketchbook.  But, this time, instead of drawing, I began unloading—words, images, scribbling.  Before I knew it, the book was full of words.  I had to do it again.  I bought another and filled it up.  And another.  During the course of this self-discovery, I started a band.  I could not play any instrument very well, so I was, by default, the “singer.”  Writing lyrics for the band forced my words into phrases, images, rhythms and themes.  My writing was really bad.  But soon, coherent poetry was being written.

I tried dabbling in dialogues (that’s all they were, no concept, no stage directions) and short prose pieces, along with the poems and songs.  Writing was to be what I did on my own time, when I was alone to do what I wanted to do (and when I wasn’t playing the guitar).

Luckily, I was not too old to start something new.  My guitar playing improved, along with my writing, showing me that there was promise for me.  I continued to write, improving along the way, when I had time alone.  I only showed my writing to a few people, those who I knew would be patronizing.

            My writing was always described as “imaginative,” “cool”…”neat.”  The last one was always the worst.  “Neat.”  Whose writing is “neat?”  Fed up with the prospect of my own mediocrity, I choked down a big helping of my pride and enrolled in this class.  I wanted to write, but felt that the effort must produce results beyond catharsis and/or crass ego projection.

            This journal reflects a very different kind of growing process than the anecdote about my past.  It shows growth through true interaction and struggle.  The familiar struggle with adolescent soul-searching was to be expected.  But criticism and peer analysis is a process through which many who create are too unwilling to go.  Honestly, I was scared out of my wits.

Poetry:

            With poetry, the Minot text helped the most.  Learning about subtlety, rhythm, and continuity helped to shape the way I perceived poetry—reading it and writing it.  The piece I presented, “Conflict for Color,” was about a year old at the beginning of the term.  I had not read it since its inception.  I described this poem as being about writing--the process, the internal struggle, the victory of self-control.  I was once a very ideologically-driven political activist, serving what I thought was my duty to humanity.  My intentions were good.  Being very vulnerable to political influence, I ran into a very charismatic, megalomaniacal, neo-Stalinist Marxist professor of government.

Soon, we began to have disagreements.  The professor was the founder of a particular Marxist activist group of which I was a member.  He censored the argument, not allowing the group to join in, and kicked me out.  Soon, I began to see that his defenses of communist revolution were falling short of reason.  I suppose that this Trotskyite poem is the document of my mental state at the time.  I had no sense of what the universal theme would be until the second stanza was written (at the time it was written, the “line of people” stanza was the second).  It was then that I began to relate it to my own struggles with writing, as they reflected the more open-minded political consciousness that began to develop within me.

The “final” draft is only a bit different than the original, switching the first and second stanzas, and minor word usage changes.  The “line of people” changed to “long line…” for rhythm.  “onto the street” became “all over the street,” “casting a shadow” is now “casting shadows” for the same reason.  “intent for valor” is now “intended valor,” a choice based on stylistic preferences.

When I presented it to the group, there were some very encouraging comments, but really no critiques.  This response sent me into a panic, as I figured the worst (the piece is so bad that no one wants to break it to me), but the comments helped me to rearrange the stanzas and tighten the rhythm.  I have no written record of the discussion, but “image clusters” were mentioned, referring to the concrete images in each stanza.  “Mixed metaphor” was also discussed, referring to the interpretive possibilities derived from the narrator’s experience, and the abstract concepts in the refrain.

conflict for color [link]

The next one is a free-verse piece, originally written around the same time.

circles of green, halo of yellow, heart of red, wings white [link]

Fiction:

LINK TO FICTION SUBMISSION

I had a very difficult time with fiction--I have never tried it before.  I love to read fiction and thought I knew what “good fiction” looked like.  Perhaps I do know, and I suppose that is why I had such trouble.  I scrutinized every single word.  So, I was just forced to write, not caring how it “looked.”  I found that what helped me the most were Laurie and Robert’s comments and critiques.  Robert helped with word usage and the fluidity of some of the language.  Laurie’s comments helped with the structure overall.  She corrected my grammar (I’m prone to using passive voice), mechanical and stylistic choices.  Both Robert and Laurie agreed that it left the reader wanting something more at the end (each had a very different opinion about this aspect, though).

Images of birds always seem to represent freedom (of one’s soul, of the individual, or of oppressed people) and tranquility. Images of birds flying into glass (which have stuck with me for quite a while, relentlessly), though, represent the difficulty of coping or adapting.  It then just opened the door to many interpretations as an image, all applicable to every person’s unexpected and abrupt paradigm shifts, incurred throughout life.  It was also, for me, an image of many conflicting interests between individuals and environment.

The title “Pilot Fish” is based on a character in A Moveable Feast, by Ernest Hemingway, who is sort of the “pioneer” type employed by social elites to scout out safe places for adventure in the French Alps.  The people who hire him follow him into the mountains, searching for places yet to be discovered by skiers.  The elites, after a few weeks, begin to flock into the area and the Pilot Fish leaves, but not without payment.  Pilot Fish is usually a maverick, but is socially adept as well.  What I think is important about this character is the “pioneer” trait, along with the qualities of a self-taught person.

Here is the first page of the early draft, with a comment from Robert.

Pilot Fish

I saw a bird fly into glass. His neck seemed to have twisted around more than it could.[RSA1]   There was no life left in the poor thing.  It was brown with spots of white on its belly.

I was sipping my coffee, staring at the bird for what seemed to have been hours, when Erin arrived.  Head nods were exchanged and I smiled faintly.

“You look like someone tore your heart out,” she murmured.  She smelled like flowers.

“Look,” I pointed to the ground outside.

“Ouch, that must’ve hurt,” she mused, “what are you reading?”

“Feast, Hemmingway,” I replied.

“Loved it, where are you right now?” she asked.

“Skiing in the Alps. I was almost done until ‘thud!’ and this bird is on the sidewalk, poor thing.”  I was staring at the bird again when Erin cleared her throat and opened her menu.  I placed my book into my bag and looked at the menu.  I had chicken.

After dinner, Erin had other obligations and had to leave.  I stayed at the table, looking at the bird.  I began thinking about my past with Erin, about how we had always laughed at people, things, and memories of school, about the times when we would almost fall in love and laugh it off as soon as we both realized it.  She is married now and seems happy.  I was happy being alone.

Pilot Fish [link]

Overall, I am happy with it, but will continue to work with it until I feel that it is complete.  I think that what it needs is just more time and revision.  I could perhaps continue the scene to include what happens afterward.  This could also work as a longer piece.  I think that the narrator/main character seems strong enough to carry it.  Throughout this experience, I have discovered that I like writing under some sort of structural pressure, along with deadlines.  These aspects of the assignment were particularly helpful, as I now hope to continue writing and eventually publish something.

Drama:

            Upon discovering that this course had a drama element, I knew that I would fail.  Though I love to read them, I have never even considered writing a script before.  This seemingly daunting task revealed itself as the most enjoyable and least troubling assignment for the semester.

LINK TO DRAMA PRESENTATION

            Initially, I thought that the parameters (setting- classroom) would inhibit creativity, but I discovered that they served to help me to focus on the scene’s characterization, dialogue and action, rather than abstract concepts and metaphors.  The concept came from my own background as a student, complete with pangs of desire to leave class every day.

The characters form a composite of my experiences in different subjects, with different professors, from being unreasonably nervous about a subject to being overly confident about my abilities.  Boring, didactic professors are familiar to every student, as is the nagging wish to escape from class.  Obstinate, inconsiderate ideologues are a familiar archetype to those interested in politics and philosophy.  The image of someone who speaks and never listens is recognized by everyone.  There are also character types within American society that I tried to conflate with the students in the scene.  This script, unavoidably, is also an attempt at socio-political satire, which is summarized in the theme sentence.

            The script began as a concept of an attempt to write a scene with little to no interaction between characters.  Inner monologue seemed to be the only way for me to effectively accomplish this task, so I played with the idea of the Socratic dialogue, in which Socrates would teach someone something through a series of questions and suggestions.  I thought that it would be ironic to juxtapose this method of inquiry with an audience that is not paying attention.  So, as Professor Moore is explaining the roots of social ills, society is distracted with individualist, self-centered contemplation.

            The draft I originally presented lacked a real climax, focusing only on one character at a time.  Also, more interesting features and quirks of the characters were left out of the early draft.  I have changed some of the lines to match more closely the words spoken by the performers, mostly one or two words here and there.  I also added the reactions of the students to the revelation at the end, so as to create climax, add realism and a sense of resolution.

In the earlier draft, Laurie only had one line, which, according to the depiction of her attitude, was unrealistic.  A pretentious elitist would have something to say about almost everything.  I gave Travis, Craig, Robert and Jennifer more lines to help connect their characters to the end, where they finally pay attention to what David is saying.

Here is part of the early draft, where I feel the most changes have been made.  Originally, David’s monologue about the quizzes marked the end of the script.  During the discussion following the presentation, a few group members wanted to hear more dialogue from the characters in reaction to Dr. Moore’s proposition.  There was also some confusion in the stage directions where Enrique speaks.  Laurie suggested that I direct Enrique’s attention to Craig instead of to Robert.  This change helped to sharpen the focus on to Craig’s insecurities and to better describe his actions.

First Draft:

David: Culturally, this ties into the concept of rugged individualism.  A familiar depiction would be John Wayne.  But, it doesn’t stop with pop icons.  It filters into academia, with political philosophers, who were, historically, collectivists.  Taking on this mindset [fading out] most recently, New Historicists are following right along…

Craig: [panicked] New Historicists!?!  We never discussed the OLD ones!  I need some water…when’s break?

Enrique: [looking at Robert, who keeps checking his watch] God!  What’s this guy’s problem?  He hasn’t been still since class started… [looking at Travis, who is staring off into space]  and this dude’s such a space cadet!  Hello? Anyone home?  What’s wrong with Craig?  He seems so out of place.  There’s sweat dripping from his chin!  What a wreck!

Craig: Break…break…break…

David: I’ve noticed that a number of you are leaving at the break lately.  This isn’t fair to you or to your comrades in the classroom.  So, as incentive to stay for the entire time, and in order to keep the collective mindset together, I’ll be giving quizzes, at the end of the class, about the lecture.  They will count as one point toward your final grade, zero points if you get the questions wrong, and negative one point if you’re not here to take it.  Now, are there any questions before we break?

END

This course has taught me to consider avenues and methods I would never consider on my own.  Self-criticism, for me, has always been to such an extreme that I never took it seriously.  Having a group of peers to read and criticize my work has taught me to value the help of others.  I always had the typical view of the working writer not so much as the tortured person in a garret working alone but as a loner nevertheless.  Of course, the inception must take place when the writer is alone, but peers’ reactions are crucial to development through revision.

I have also learned to consider my audience when writing.  In order for me to justify writing at all, I must make it accessible to an audience.  This is the aspect that requires the opinions and recommendations of others.  Through this, I have seen that writing regularly only helps one to improve, and that spurts of creative genius rarely occur often enough to depend upon for consistent material.

The presentations by class mates also helped me to see different possibilities within each genre, and that sharing work helps to alleviate some of the stress of writing.  Also, I enjoyed the guest speakers, as they revealed not only the difficulties, but the possibilities of publishing one’s work.  Their accessibility helped me to gain confidence and provided valuable information about publishing in a variety of media.

The workshop aspect of the course has shown me the potential of working with others in a critical environment.  This process helped me to see that endless growth is possible with a writers’ group, to the contrary of what I had assumed in the past.  I always thought that no one could understand what I wrote or that they would stifle my development as a writer.

In the past, I hated revisions.  I preferred to eject the work from my brain as soon as I conceived it, never to change the original ideas or words, as I thought revision would be “untrue” to the intentions of the piece.  I was just stubborn and scared to admit that there may be a better version than the one I originally wrote.  Conversely, I have learned that revising makes a work more complete, refined, and fluid.  This new attitude has taken the pressure off of me because the piece then became the “draft,” helping the work to become a living, changing thing.  My new view on the process has helped me to write more often, a surprising and very useful realization.

I still love to write poetry, and feel that lyric poems are the most useful for me to produce.  Fiction is still a difficult genre, though what I have learned has shown me that it is possible, and that practice will make it easier to do.  Of the three genres, drama surprised me in that it was the most enjoyable to write.  I have found that dialogue and characterization comes easily, and that the visual performance aspect helps me to visualize the scene more naturally than writing action into fiction.

Beyond the scope of the course, I hope to continue writing, building a community of writers along the way with which I can field suggestions and comments about my work.  Since drama has captured my interest, I will attempt to write more scripts in the future, and perhaps, I could even publish my work.  I will continue to write songs, and what I learned this semester will help me improve in this field as well.

Appendix:

Draft exchanges for fiction piece with Robert Andresakis and Laurie Eckhart.

Robert’s comments:

I saw a bird fly into glass.  His neck seemed to have twisted around more than it could.[RSA2]   There was no life left in the poor thing.  It was brown with spots of white on its belly…

Her smile seemed friendly enough, and her timidity [RSA3] seemed to be hiding an intriguing mind…

[at the end].[RSA4] 

Laurie’s comments:

His neck seemed to have twisted [LE5] around more than it could[LE6] .  There was no life left in the poor thing.  It was brown with spots of white on its belly…

I was sipping my coffee, staring [LE7] at the bird…

“You look like someone tore your heart out,” she murmured.  She smelled like flowers...

 “Hello.” Someone had taken [LE9] it upon themselves to interrupt my solitude.  The waitress asked if I had[LE10]  planned on sitting here for a while, because the place was full.  She filled my coffee again…

The woman to the left of me [LE11] seemed pensive.  Perhaps she was unhappy with her dinner date who was more interested in looking at the person in the booth behind her than the conversation [LE12] she was desperately seeking.  The little boys next to them seemed[LE13]  to epitomize anarchy.

Will, I genuinely like your story! A few things to work on, but other than that it’s great. It ends naturally, although I was left curious, wanting more. You pace it really well, which is impressive. The details are spot on enough that they add to the story, without taking away from the story. By the time I reached the joke about him not having his shovel, you had given me enough to start a good characterization, so the joke really was funny (I guess that sounds strange…but if you read enough bad characterization you start to appreciate the good).  I suggested a few mechanical & stylistic changes, of course, you be the judge. I hope I helped and anytime you want to share writing for feedback send it my way.

Laurie