Trying to Light a Fire

I am listening to my rainy day mix and feeling tired. The bottom of my pants are wet and I just got done straightening my bangs, because the rain made them stick up, untamed. I am looking at what classes I want to take next semester, because registration for sophomores begins in a week or two. I have selected which intro to creative writing class I want to take, which will be the one class I work everything else around. I always have once class I am certain about that sets the rules for the other classes. I selected this one, because I recognized the professor’s name as the woman who is in charge of the “Creative Non-Fiction” Majors in the writing department. I read a lot of creative non-fiction. I like writing all types of genres (I often feel like I wish I could write every form of genre, plays/movies, songs, poems, fiction, non-fiction, and anything else really). Natalie Godlberg, one of my favorite authors is a professional writing instructor who works with celebrities and already published authors, says that you need to read what you want to write, because you write what you read. I thought I should therefore focus on creative non-fiction. I am not certain, so I am hoping to get to know this professor well enough to share my interest in it and have an educated decision on if it is worth pursuing or the same type of style I am going for.

Yesterday I stopped in my Literary Analysis professor’s office to discuss reconstructing my paper on Anne Sexton’s poem about Sylvia Plath’s suicide. I also asked him about signing a major, and if there was any internships or work I could do in the English department. He is a very straightforward kind of guy. He told me that he was disappointed in my paper, because I was so taken by this poem, but the paper didn’t show that. He said it was too short for a “woman of [my] intelligence.” What I like about him is that he went on to elaborate and said, “I think you are very intelligent, but I can tell you that all day. You will just be like, ‘oh that old flatterer’, and you won’t believe me. I want you to write a paper that shows yourself you are intelligent so that I don’t have to tell you and neither does anyone else.” That made me feel good, because it was a real compliment without being so flattering that I shake it off. It was not cheesy or surface level, because he was telling me that my paper was crap. It has been said that he grades really tough, but he does let us resubmit our papers, but it must show almost a total makeover with many changes and insightful thoughts. He warned me that I needed to start gathering a portfolio of my creative writing work now, because he said that so many upperclassmen are naïve to the competition out there. He was like, “You don’t have time to [mess] around. You need to start TODAY, because if you want to be a writer and get a PhD in creative writing then you are going to be applying to universities that will get 300 applications for that same position-throw out half of them without hardly glancing at them, select 30 to really look at, and then pick 15. I think students from Central are more than ready to compete against the top competitors in the nation provided they are driven and know what they are facing. Ignorance will get you nowhere.” I then discovered that he had to hound my former lit professor that was accepted at University of Miami to teach and work on his PhD in literature. He made me laugh when he told me how much he had to light a fire underneath him. “We all need that, and other professors will tell you that there is plenty of time, but there’s not if you want to excel.” I felt really motivated after speaking with him. It is incredibly intimidating to think about, but it’s better to think about it now when I can do something, rather than think I am okay and later find out I am just another mediocre writer in the world.

I have a lot of work to do as I prepare to leave for Boston next weekend. I will spend a good chunk of this weekend working on multiple things that are due while I am gone, because I wil have to turn them in early. I feel like I am doing a decent job at taking charge of my life this year. I hope it continues to stay that way.