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Creative Writing, A Misnomer Of Proportions Large // Filed under: Life on Saturday August 06th 2005, 6:13 pm So. I’ve taken up Creative Writing this semester. Why, you ask? I’ll tell you, anonymous internet fiends! It’s because I’ve completely run out of units to take. I could easily finish my Games Technology degree this semester, but I and my colleagues-in-game wish to pursue this unit on its own, that we may give it the full attention it deserves. This accordingly means I was also left with only one unit to do this semester, so I decided “I know! I like writing. And if I do say so myself, I have quite a flair with these here word-things. I’ll take up Creative Writing!” So far the word meh is the only thing that springs to mind. Of course I had expectations that it would be liberally sprinkled with works of literary filth, ensconced within their own writhing search for meaning and understanding in a cold and lonely universe - and yes, of course I expected that. I would expect nothing less from my experience in literary courses both in high school and at university. But it’s still annoying, still jarring to realise that the literary world is still, still, despite my absence, obsessed with literature being about clarity and depth in a purposeless void of existence, rather than just telling a good story. I’m assured that eventually we will get to this point, and that we are free to pursue our own literary paths through this course, which is good - I guess - but I’ll still be forced to live under the ever-present gaze of a faculty and a culture which treats any piece of literature that doesn’t explore the dark meanderings of a human soul’s search for a foothold in an ever-changing modern world, etc, etc as filth suitable only for the dank realms of enjoyable fiction. Did that even make any sense? Who knows. Speaking of high school, I was actually surprised to learn that many of the people in my class are self-confessed non-writers. I’ve been cloistered so long in my little Games Technology clique of the same nine people that I’d forgotten there was actually a university beyond the smelly, artitificially-lit computer laboratories. Now I am back in the real world of university, and let me tell you it’s just as disconcerting as when I began to consciously avoid it. Gibbering first-year students. Mature-age students with grandchildren and a retirement village looming at the horizon. Foreign exchange students for whom English would be a second language, were they not already fluent also in Dutch, Polish AND German. I’m almost certain I’ll find a Marxist lesbian if I look hard enough. There’s always one. And this strangely intriguing girl with eyes that, were I given to romantic flourish with words, I would describe as eyes that one could drown in. Imagine Elijah-Wood-as-Frodo-Baggins-eyes, right? Only these eyes don’t make me want to rip them out with a fork, and then shove a replacement pair of eyes in so the bastard can see his own watery pools of despair before he bleeds to death (I also amputated his legs, but I censored that part). Like those eyes. Only somehow good. Anyway, she kept looking at me. With her eyes. // 6 Comments
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Greymortis says:
August 6, 2005 at 10:07 pm
popogeejo says:
August 7, 2005 at 1:25 am
Tom says:
August 7, 2005 at 8:31 am
Doomy says:
August 10, 2005 at 12:20 pm
I is back and balder than ever says:
August 14, 2005 at 6:43 pm
Horror Movie Reviews says:
March 31, 2006 at 10:53 am