Writer Monkey
So, as some of my readers may know, I’m taking a writing class this semester. Officially I’m just taking it for fun and to develop my creative side. This is mostly true. Unofficially, I want to be the best writer in the class and to have the teacher love me more than anyone else and to get the bestest grade ever given and to be worshipped and adored by each and every one of my classmates.
I realize that maybe, just maybe, I’m not quite over my teacher’s pet phase.
I’m not sure how this class is going to go for me. First of all, the teacher doesn’t believe in grading creative writing, so we get graded mostly on attendance and participation. My “A” loving little heart and my deeply seated competitive side are not thrilled with this policy. How will I know who I’m better than if we can all get A’s?
Second, it turns out that there are some very annoying people drawn to writing classes (obviously this includes me). There is Booming Voice Ted (BVT), who always has a comment to make and who has the loudest indoor voice I’ve ever heard. BVT really, really likes his writing and has promised (threatened?) that he will always be willing to read his stuff out loud. He says he wants to write about “powerful words. Words like birth, hope, transformation, love and death.” I am really not looking forward to BVT’s dramatic readings of his birth scenes.
Also annoying the Egg of Expression Girl (EEG). EEG is one of those “look at me, look at me, I am ever so creative! I have artfully messy hair and black fingernails and I name drop authors I am allegedly reading. I drink a lot of coffee and talk about the hidden darkness in everyday life” type of people. Her nickname stems from an exercise in class where we all had to finish this sentence: The art of writing is __________. Her response? “The art of writing is the act of frying an egg of expression on a sidewalk instead of a skillet.”
Gag. The worst part is that everyone in class sighed reverently at that. I dare anyone in class to come up with a coherent explanation for what that even means.
There is also a group of students, the “Gen Eds”, who are in the class despite their stated aversions to both writing and reading. This class is a transferable so I can understand the need for credit but I think it could be a long semester for the guy sitting next to me who claims to own 600 DVDs and no books.
The rest of the class is a hodgepodge of elderly folks, a couple of people like me taking it just for fun and creative writing and journalism majors. We haven’t really started reading each others stuff yet, so it will be interesting to hear what the folks in this group come up with.
I am, despite my annoyances, glad that I am in the class and I do think I’ll get something out of it…even if that something is just the realization that I am a completely judgmental and competitive person. Self-knowledge is valuable too.
I realize that maybe, just maybe, I’m not quite over my teacher’s pet phase.
I’m not sure how this class is going to go for me. First of all, the teacher doesn’t believe in grading creative writing, so we get graded mostly on attendance and participation. My “A” loving little heart and my deeply seated competitive side are not thrilled with this policy. How will I know who I’m better than if we can all get A’s?
Second, it turns out that there are some very annoying people drawn to writing classes (obviously this includes me). There is Booming Voice Ted (BVT), who always has a comment to make and who has the loudest indoor voice I’ve ever heard. BVT really, really likes his writing and has promised (threatened?) that he will always be willing to read his stuff out loud. He says he wants to write about “powerful words. Words like birth, hope, transformation, love and death.” I am really not looking forward to BVT’s dramatic readings of his birth scenes.
Also annoying the Egg of Expression Girl (EEG). EEG is one of those “look at me, look at me, I am ever so creative! I have artfully messy hair and black fingernails and I name drop authors I am allegedly reading. I drink a lot of coffee and talk about the hidden darkness in everyday life” type of people. Her nickname stems from an exercise in class where we all had to finish this sentence: The art of writing is __________. Her response? “The art of writing is the act of frying an egg of expression on a sidewalk instead of a skillet.”
Gag. The worst part is that everyone in class sighed reverently at that. I dare anyone in class to come up with a coherent explanation for what that even means.
There is also a group of students, the “Gen Eds”, who are in the class despite their stated aversions to both writing and reading. This class is a transferable so I can understand the need for credit but I think it could be a long semester for the guy sitting next to me who claims to own 600 DVDs and no books.
The rest of the class is a hodgepodge of elderly folks, a couple of people like me taking it just for fun and creative writing and journalism majors. We haven’t really started reading each others stuff yet, so it will be interesting to hear what the folks in this group come up with.
I am, despite my annoyances, glad that I am in the class and I do think I’ll get something out of it…even if that something is just the realization that I am a completely judgmental and competitive person. Self-knowledge is valuable too.
posted by Mrs.Robinson at
9:42 AM
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