Do creative writing skills have anything to do with everyday life? As a teacher, I’m inclined to respond “hell yes” to this question, but I’m sure I would disappoint many if I just left it at that. Being able to use words creatively, allows a person to inspire others, to express herself clearly and artistically, and most importantly, to turn the ordinary into something semi-magical. God bless the poets and painters, for without them, dullness couldn’t begin to describe our worldly predicament.
I am a writer, and therefore, a reader as well. Reading the works of others has inspired a multitude of thoughts, feelings, and yes, the occasional final project paper. I would like to say I have original work (wouldn’t any artist) but in reality we are all grasping at ideas that have long since been explored. Ahhh, what magnificence it must have been to tackle the human condition the way Shakespeare did before Freud came in and fucked with it. Or, the adrenaline rush Chaucer must have felt to toss perverted witticisms into his work, knowing full well he could be excommunicated and/or beheaded. Essentially, we’ve been drawing on each other’s thoughts and observations for a very long time. I can only hope (wonder) if someone ages from now looks at my work and says, “That reminds me of…”
Artistic self-expression does not equal snobbery. No, to the contrary, in my opinion, it requires a person to have what I like to call “humble guts.” Being unassumingly brave may be new territory for some, but I do believe it’s possible. One must not let the constant barrage of criticism affect the innate need for her innovative eloquence. I take what is necessary from the critics, but no more. In addition, I always walk away with pride and self-determination intact.
Even more important than confidence, is that I can make doing dishes divine, scrubbing sinks supernatural, or baking mostaccioli mystical. How? Creative writing makes my life somewhat magical in many unexpected ways. Somehow through years of word skills and observations, I came to the (not always pleasant) conclusion that the language arts were my ticket to a more mysterious explanation of the everyday. Damn the dullness!
