Articles on creative writing, the writing process, submitting manuscripts to agents and publishers, and other topics of interest to writers. If you'd like to submit an article, or discuss an idea, email pumpkinsubs@gmail.com - as always, please check the Submission Guidelines before sending any work in. |
posted 19 Jan 2009 03:35 by Daphne Kapsali
[
updated 20 Jan 2009 23:08
]
"Is that, like, writing pretty?"
The
above, coupled with an expression of utter bewilderment, is an actual
response to my stating that I’d studied creative writing. And it isn’t
an isolated incident. Perhaps most responses are slightly more
eloquent, but they all share the bewilderment and a slightly suspicious
attitude towards this clearly made-up discipline that I claim to have
gained a Masters in. My standard reply, arrived at by necessity, after
numerous vain attempts to give an accurate description of the content
of an academic degree in creative writing, is now: ‘It’s learning to be
a writer.’ Which, as you might imagine, generally gets me into even
more trouble, by throwing me head first into the “But can writing
actually be taught?” debate.
My dad is a poet, and I am a
writer. Words run in the family, and I don’t believe it’s coincidental.
I cannot do math to save my life, but I can write. And there’s
something inherent in that, if not always hereditary. But talent is a
very tricky term, which we nonetheless feel free to throw about,
arbitrarily. There are genetic predispositions to certain diseases,
genes that decide our gender and the colour of our skin, but we have
yet to identify a gene for writing, painting, or doing simultaneous
equations. And until we do, the concept of talent will remain an
abstract one. But talent, nonetheless, however tentatively you use the
term, is what you need to have, in order to actually be a writer.
Everyone may well have a book in them, but it’s most probably a bad
one. And if this sounds elitist, it’s because it is: not everyone can
be a writer. Just like not everyone can be a scientist, an accountant
or a builder.
But, if it all comes down to that elusive talent
gene, what’s the use of an academic degree in writing? Steinbeck didn’t
need one to write East of Eden; Dickens, Tolstoy and Kundera didn’t
study creative writing. Correct. But Kazuo Ishiguro, Ian McEwan , and
Tracy Chevalier did, while Malcolm Bradbury, Andrew Motion and Rose
Tremain all taught on EUA’s Creative Writing MA. Even if you view
education as a means to an end, rather than an end in itself, there is
much to recommend a degree in creative writing. First of all, there is
the sense of community that you immediately gain, something that
writers are generally starved of. The reclusive author stereotype may
be a cultural construction, to an extent, but it’s not that far from
the truth: writing is a lonely occupation. And feedback is an important
part of the writing process, as is reviewing, redrafting and editing –
all of which you practice in the workshops that constitute the core of
any course in creative writing. For the vast majority of aspiring
authors, whose work has only ever been read by friends and family,
gaining a readership of their peers and tutors, who will not offer
blind praise but constructive criticism, is worth the tuition fees in
itself. Writing courses encourage you to be creative, but also teach
you how look at your creative output critically. You study the
technical and formal elements of writing, so that you can then
recognise, apply or subvert them in your own work. In the first year of
my BA, I had a brilliant and very frightening writing tutor who was
obsessed with spelling and punctuation, and took a liking to me because
I could manage both. It may sound elementary, but you’d be surprised.
There is so much more to writing than sitting down at your desk,
invoking your muse of choice, and pouring your soul out. There are big
things and little things and all the things in between, that may have
never occurred to you outside that classroom. Just like scientists,
accountants and builders, writers need training, too. Because talent
may just as well translate into another unread manuscript on a
publisher’s slush pile as into a literary masterpiece and, because the
odds are skyscraper-high against the latter, we need all the help we
can get.
So: can writing be taught? Perhaps not. You can teach
the theory, all the bits and pieces that surround it, but perhaps you
can never touch upon the core that is the ability to write. But there
is something very valuable that a degree in creative writing can teach
you: how to be a writer. This is the single most important thing I took
away from the four years I studied creative writing. By turning what
was previously an interest, a hobby, a thing you were “good at” into an
academic pursuit, the object of your studies, by applying yourself to
it daily and joining a community that recognises it as a valid
occupation, by openly declaring your commitment to it and, yes, even by
answering questions like ‘Is that, like, writing pretty?’, slowly, day
by day, your perception of the act of writing and your own role in that
process begins to shift. Slowly, you begin to think of yourself as a
writer, to separate what you do from what you are. Slowly, you replace
the phrase “I’m a barmaid/student/temp” with “I’m a writer”. I’m a
writer. And the fact that I have a degree in it is neither here nor
there, except, if I didn’t, I might still be there, serving pints of
Carling and waiting for inspiration to strike so I could finish chapter
one, rather than here, with a completed manuscript on my desk,
composing letters to agents in my head and enjoying interesting
conversations with people who think creative writing is the same as
calligraphy.
And another thing: everything else aside, signing
up for a degree in creative writing means a whole year (or three, in
the case of a BA) of doing what you love. Isn’t that a little
self-indulgent? You bet it is. And I, for one, would indulge again any
time, without a moment’s hesitation.
Copyright 2008 Daphne Kapsali
Related links:
MA in Creative Writing at UEA
MA in Creative and Life Writing at Goldsmiths College, University of London
Undergraduate
and postgraduate degrees in writing are offered by a number of UK
universities. Information on undergraduate courses can be found through
UCAS, while the National Association for Writers in Education has compiled a catalogue of writing courses offered by higher education institutions in the UK.
This article was written for, and published on CompletelyNovel,
a new site bringing together writers, readers and the publishing
industry. CompletelyNovel is currently running a private Beta trial for
a limited number of users. You can apply to take part of the site's
homepage. |
|
