Blog Assignment: #7 Final Workshop Reflection

Blog Assignment #7: Final Workshop Reflection

            I would like to think that I have grown a lot as a creative writer after this English 274 course, however I feel I have only just begun. This was my first creative non-fiction class I have ever taken; besides the creative writing assignments I used to get in elementary and middle school, it’s been a while since I was able to free write. A light went off this year, as I was registering for classes to take on this challenge and take this course, and now that we have reached the end of the semester, it is safe to say I have no regrets.  I have always kept a journal, and will continue to do so, but now I feel like I can write down my experiences and ideas in sort of a long form journalistic view of my own life. 

            Throughout the semester, I found our creative writing assignments both challenging and liberating. What challenged me most, however was my personal memoir. I found out that I really don’t like writing about myself. I get shy letting people in my world; however as I grow I do see myself writing a memoir in the future however now, I feel like I would be too critical about myself. Naturally everyone is their own worst critique, so this assignment was hard for me and even gave me so much anxiety that I missed the deadline! However, when I got to writing about my personal experience, working in the restaurant industry, I never felt so liberated in my life. When I sat down and thought about the worst experience of my life, the words flew throughout my bloodstream and pumped write into my fingertips as my hands touched the computer’s keyboard. It was like therapy to me, and as soon as I reached 1,000 words, I wasn’t even ready to stop yet. All that pent up aggression I had over the summer towards my manager, my coworkers, even the owner came out through my writing, and when I was done, I felt a big weight lifted off of me. I really appreciate my professor encouraging us to look within ourselves and challenged us to get creative, which I truly appreciate and respect.

            One of my favorite pieces we read in class was, What inside you Brother?, written by Toure. In this very experimental piece, Toure wrote a personal memoir about his personal black experience in America written in journalistic form. I have already purchased his short stories to read over the Christmas break. His writing truly made a mark on me on so many different levels. I felt personally connected with his writing and experience because when I was growing up I definitely shared similar experiences being the only black kid growing up in an all white neighborhood. I think all these experiences are catching up with me now, and as I look into these writers, I find comfort knowing that I am not the only one. I was not the only one feeling certain insecurities about my race and my background, and I find Toure and inspiration to be an experimental journalist. I never knew this until now, but even in my first attempt at college I was drawn to experimental writers like Tom Wolfe or Hunter Thompson. This semester, I found out that these journalists were first non-fiction writers, and I have always mirrored my journalistic ways towards them. So this class has inspired me to use creative and experimental approaches when reporting a story. I feel its connects the audience to the experience naturally and intensely.

I feel one of my most successful pieces written in this class, in my opinion was the description of a place. Entitled “Haunted Places” is a story of my trip to the Octagon, on Roosevelt Island. My favorite and I think most powerful is the ending. It was here, I reflected on the trip. I hope to extend this some day, as writing about old, haunted mystical places is an idea of mine. Here is a sample.

“I sat on that bench for the rest of the day thinking about how life was like living on an island that was once isolated from the rest of the city of New York. Across the East River, I lost myself watching the speeding rainbow of the FDR highway. I imagined the millions of people bustling about the streets of Manhattan living their self-absorbed lives. I started to feel resentful. How could anyone not go crazy looking at this beautiful view? I feel as if I’m missing out on something. This island is clearly getting to me. I quickly hopped back up, and headed back to my home in Astoria.”