Writing [the body {creative}]

I’m going to spare no space with ridiculous writing. Here is
the problem:

We, the
essay writers of the Claremont Colleges, are imprisoned within our own words;
[really? Imprisoned?] forced to write within the structures we believe, and
have been told, are the best methods of conveying a point; in stainless steel
bars of sterile thought. We sacrifice authenticity for the classic
introduction-body-conclusion.

Have you
ever questioned why this method of ‘good’ writing has been termed ‘classic’ in
the first place? This is a problem: How many hours have you dedicated to a
style and method you blindly submit to?

[Unless you
are a STEM major then you probably don’t care…but you still write reports, so
there…]

The result
of this metaphorical and epistemological imprisonment is that our ideas are
constrained to the limits of abilities with that form. If you are a great essay
writer that merely means that you are perhaps the best at opening wine bottles
with a Swiss army knife. Open yourself.

It is about
time, as students and folks, that we take creative writing more seriously. We
must stop looking at it as a tertiary art form that is only accessible to those
who are ‘good at it’ or ‘gifted with words.’ We really just have to make extra
effort to see the links between a lab report, a poem and a novel. They all
play with syntax in a way that conveys meaning to reader, and all are ‘clear.’

The ability
with which you can use these forms is entirely based on practice. Repetition of
usage. Challenging your own sense of word-play.

[Writing
conventions are important; they are the standards you gotta know before you
break them at every level. Conventions are both a part of the prison and the
means of escape—in the sense that a piece of all ‘fragments’ is obnoxious but a
single, powerful shortened sentence means a whole lot. A well-placed capitalized
word can change Everything.]

Writing, in
any genre, is play. Serious fucking play—a back and forth of ideas and concepts
and meanings and implications, all swirling around with a so-called thesis.
This play can be so, so fun, but it can also be overwhelming. One must take a
bit of time to learn the rules, practice, hit the gym and then the whole world
of conveyance is up for grabs.

Toss things
back and forth, trick the reader, set traps for critics or mix emotion into a
lab report. Experiment.

We gotta
remind ourselves that this ability to play comes from the realization that no ‘conclusion’ we write is going to be actually ‘conclusive.’ Words, by their
nature, cannot declare a ‘really immutable real’ truth. So stop trying. Have fun
with it. Create a dialogue with yourself and the scholars of the past.

Creative
writing [which is kind of a derogatory term if you think about it] is the
practice of making total use of the interplay of elements at your disposal.

Just look
at some of the simple things you can do with a bit of forethought. You can add
multiple voices [like this one right here, that speaks with a bit more of a
technical tone {and you can layer them too} so that your voices communicate]. So
an idea that you are trying to convey doesn’t feel so lonely [wait, hold on how
can an idea be lonely? {Don’t be so aggressive, it is a metaphor, man} whoa look at you Mr. Emotional-metaphor using a gendered pronoun perpetuating
patriarchy {Now hold up…} nope you don’t even know what gender I am] but lonely
is just a metaphor so don’t take my word {don’t discredit yourself so much,
Conner} for it.

This act of
Creative [all writing is creative by nature of the word creative] Writing is a
gesture of consciousness toward where your words are coming {and not coming}
from. So one word hits [strikes {sinks}] a greater register of potentials: the
rational, the technical, {the emotional} the poetic, [the critical] or any
other part of you that understands…things. [Really nailed the ending there,
man. {Fuck off.}]

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