Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Successful Writing- D. Ryan
Another factor that is just about as important as originality is cohesion. It is common today to experience a story that is entertaining until a nonsensical element rears its ugly head, or an ending comes to fruition that seems to make little sense as it is relative to the rest of the work. Cohesion can be difficult to accomplish when trying to create an original work, or while using an abstract form of storytelling. But, what makes original or abstract work truly successful and entertaining is when it is tightly constructed and easily dissected during retrospection.
I would like to use this class to try out new styles and points of view in order to make my work more interesting. I’ve always wanted to play around with new styles and different types of stories, while getting objective feedback from others interested in writing. Taking my writing to friends for critique is does not usually produce good feedback, so I am excited to be able to see how others view my work and hear any suggestions that they have. I would also like to use this class to work on my cohesion. Sadly, I am susceptible to producing a work that can come apart at the seams.
Derek Ryan
'Successful' Creative Writing
That being said, every writer’s work is meant to be read. Why put words on paper if you didn’t desire someone to at least ‘look over’ it. A part of being a successful work or literature is for someone to read that work. The other part of being a success (and I believe more important) is having the ability to write that work in the first place. In The Art and Craft of Storytelling, Nancy Lamb proposes tools and techniques to help writers create their own stories in a coherent and structured dialogue. With her ‘time-tested ways’ and strategies, she promises to help ‘transform a ho-hum story into a page-turner.’ I hope by studying and practicing her guidelines, as well as those of my classmates, I can become a better writer both creatively and critically. Whether it’s creating memorable characters, use of the Hero Quest, or the three-act concept, I hope to challenge my mind and creative writing, combining them together in a smooth and enjoyable read.
I will be the first to say I am horrible at putting my thoughts into coherent sentences, let alone on paper. This is my first creative writing class ever. I am extremely shy with my work and have yet to write anything for simple enjoyment. I especially don’t like the idea of sharing my work with others. Yes, I did say that every writer’s work is meant to be read, but I don’t like the idea of not controlling who reads my pieces. It’s one thing to say all first drafts are meant to be shitty so don‘t worry about it. It’s another to actually submit those shitty drafts to the critiques of others. Others who have submitted their version of shitty first drafts which seem like excerpts from The New Yorker. Hopefully, this class will help ease those tensions or kill me in the process, making my literature and me famous.
Jae Khoury
Breaking the BAD Habits
Your first draft shouldn’t be bad; but not too good either. You should strive to make your first draft is just that: your first draft. If you put too much thought into your first draft you won’t be able to achieve the best second draft or third draft and so on and so forth. That seems to be my main problem. I always put way too much thought into my first draft. I always seem to write down something and I have to go back and read it before I move on. In doing so, I make my first and second draft at the same time. I am very over critical of myself in my writing and in everything I do. My hope is this semester to break a lot of my bad habits in my writing. I want to make sure that I get the most out my writing and editing skills by not over achieving my first time through.
Another real big problem I have in my writing is I always seem to change the style somewhere in the middle. For example; if I was first using quotes to establish a conversation in my writing, more than likely I will easy out of that to make the conversations mainly inside the mind of the main character or speaker. Using “she told me that . . .” or “he said it would be better if I . . .” without making a full dialog in my writing. Somehow I find one easier at the beginning of my writing and the second towards the end of my writing. Making my papers and stories hard to follow and confusing at times. I’ve been told that my work is good; I just need to keep my writing style to one style. Trying not to switch somewhere in the middle.
I’m hoping the feedback this semester from my classmates and our professor will help me in breaking my “bad habits in writing.” I also will be thinking a little more about what not do to. That might do more harm than good but I have to at least try to make a stronger effort to change the way my writing works and tells the story.
- David J Scalea
Monday, September 6, 2010
Not Perfect Would Be Perfect
When it comes to writing, success isn’t a tangible goal. Imagine if all it took to get on The New York Times Bestsellers list were a few thousand words—dreams of becoming published wouldn’t have the same affect. Writers do not tend to strive for facts and figures, writers move toward meaning. We strive to have our work do justice to the subject and please both the audience and the self. Obviously professional critics can tear our work to shreds making our love and labor seem like nothing more than wasted ink on wasted paper. However, what is our audience’s ridicule compared to those judging words we throw at ourselves? Our self-judgment can be paralyzing enough to lead us to berate our own work until the negativity has mounted to such as point as never letting our metaphorical children see the world.
When has the written word become successful? When we, the creators, become confident enough to see its light. Yes, of course, the audience’s reaction is important, but just the fact that we’ve gained an audience is a triumph in its own.
We strive to obtain certain strength and meaning in our work, a value that is completely subjective. I’m a perfectionist; I need all parts of my work to be acceptable to me and act in support of my message, coming across gracefully yet powerfully.
I’ll take this opportunity to admit: I’m a writer who hasn’t been writing—terrible, right? I need to find and hold onto that passion that comes to me fleetingly, I need to become motivated enough to act on that passion, and I need to learn to allow my words to flow rather than trying to write that perfect first draft. I tend to take a longer than needed time writing, though I happen to love the art. I think I’ve found a source I can blame: pesky first drafts. Hopefully, I can grow as a writer and not let my perfectionism rest on the delete key.
~Nitesh Arora
Indefatigability
Success is word that almost makes me cringe. For me, success is both an unattainable pipe-dream and an all too easy cop-out. You can look at a piece of writing, turn it this way and that, pick at it like an old scab until you feel like you’ve failed as a writer, failed to create that success you so desperately desire. You can just as easily look at a piece of writing, slap it to the table, and say, “I’ve tried my best, and I think it is a success.” The word think, in this case, is what makes success such a relative concept. They way we perceive our writing is not what makes our work successful, but rather the way our work is received and perceived by others.
The written word, by its very nature, is a mode that is meant to be shared, and when most of us write, we are pitching our work to an indiscriminate audience full of nameless faces and oversimplified standards. We are writing with the knowledge that a prolific stream of consciousness or a meticulously detailed masterpiece will be evaluated and judged by others --in this case by our peers, and our very charming professor. With that in mind, we can manipulate our styles and our approach to try to impress, entertain, or even aggravate them. It’s easy enough to say, “I write for myself and my own entertainment, and if I think my work is a success, it is a success,” but then the very idea of writing is undermined. Can we really call a story a story if it is never shared? I would argue that we can’t.
To me, successful writing is writing that simply persists. The written work that persists is the written work that never dies, the work that becomes the classic, the must read, the story we all know. That’s success, that’s what we can strive towards.
If, through the course of this class, I can write a story that persists, even if it only sticks with one of you, then I think that would be successful. Relatively speaking.
-Samantha Markey
Friday, September 3, 2010
Success is but a relative term.
In my opinion, creative writing cannot be defined as either successful or unsuccessful. The reason for this is that any and every piece of creative literature has room for some kind of improvement. Therefore, I say success in literary realms is relative because the more improvements you make, the more relatively "successful" a work becomes.
Creative writers aim to express. Whether it be an emotion, a memory, didacticism, a question or a narrative, creative writers want to share with a specific or general audience an experience or interpretation of an experience. I say this because whenever I am in the process of writing, I draw not only from imagination, but from real-life experiences—from people I’ve known to places I’ve been to desires to accomplishments to failures. But the beauty of creative writing is that whatever the writer chooses to express, someone somewhere will find his or her own interpretation of the work and appreciate some aspect of the writer’s creativity.
The majority of my writing is created in complete solitude. I could be in bed, at a park, at a desk, but I need to be non-interactive. While this is simply my personal preference, the downfall is that there is often no one to enjoy, or better yet, critique my writings. I am looking forward to having talented peers examine my work and provide feedback, and I am excited to read the works of others who possess entirely different voices and creativity. I hope to emerge from this class with a more open mind, a sense of fearlessness and a more carved voice. Looking forward to our semester :)
-Jackie
Self-loathing is never the answer.
There's no specific pattern you can follow that leads to the perfect piece. This is why writers always give “writing tips”--they're tips, because even after following their methods faithfully, the end result is unknown.
A friend and I have blogs, and she tells me she rewrites constantly for her audience. She wants to perfect her craft, because she fears her readers won't understand and lose interest. She rewrites and rewrites her words, changing, deleting, adding. She doesn't do what I do—put out “raw writing”. Not revising. Writing something within minutes and posting.
This friend is definitely more successful than I am; people are in love with her writing. Her words are powerful. Beautiful. I envy her patience, her imagery, her emotions. She envies my description, my understanding, my varying points of view.
We're always picking at our own writing, believing it's not good enough. I remember reading a piece that won me thirty dollars six months after I wrote it.
I wanted to burn it.
Some nights I wonder why I even bother putting pen to paper. I wonder why I don't just listen to my parents and become a doctor. And then I realize that this is really what I want to do—I want to write in order for people to understand each other, but also feel they've been saved.
I think ultimately, that's success. There are so many people who can pat you on the back and say “that's good”, “I like it”, et cetera. They only say that because they want you to do the same for them. I love hearing people tell me they can relate to characters I created. Sometimes, I feel like there's a "thank you" hiding in their words. These characters aren't just made up people anymore. They're pieces of ourselves, extensions of us we're willing to share with people we don't know.
And if they connect with you, then the pain of wondering why you write goes away.