This semester I had the opportunity to explore the “art of the essay,” and I read and studied a diverse mix of personal essays and even a little poetry. Some of my favorite works were written by George Orwell, Gary Soto and Wallace Stegner. I used the essays I read as models for my own writing, and over the course of the semester built up a repertoire of my own essays and poems. The benefit of my studies is not this final product though, but rather what I learned through the process.
The best essays are not written overnight. When writing an essay, it needed to be written and shaped, and then changed again and rewritten until I was left with something that felt complete. I usually started an essay with an idea in my head, but when I was finished it often had gone somewhere that was much different from my original intention. And sometimes after I thought I had it right and published my work, I would go back a week later and find ten more things I wanted to change. I learned that the beauty of writing is that my words are never set in stone because there is always room for change.
I also learned about myself as a writer. When I first started writing, I often found myself with nothing to say. In the essays I had been reading, the writers described life in exotic places, the thrills of working as a fighter pilot, or the moral dilemma behind shooting an elephant. I am just a small town kid who has had none these life experiences, so how could I possibly write something that compares? I had this idea stuck in my head until I started reading the novel Crossing to Safety, by Wallace Stenger. When talking about writers, Stenger wrote, “They don’t understand any more than other people. They invent only plots they can resolve. They ask the questions they can answer.” He is saying that writers don’t always have to say something that is wise and weighty. When I think of a writer, I always picture an intelligent, experienced person who has profound things to say about the world. But writers are just regular people, who write about the things they know. Just because I don’t know much more than anyone else, I can still write about the things I see, the things I know, and my writing can have meaning as well.
Whether I chose to peruse a career as or writer, or I decide to simply write for my own enjoyment, I know writing will always be a part of my life. Some people say that a picture is worth a thousand words, but I think I would still rather have a thousand words. My friends express themselves through painting, drawing, or playing music, but for me, a blank word document is like a giant canvas, ready to be filled, colored and shaped with my thoughts. When I’m writing, I say things that would never come out of my mouth; it is much easier to be honest when I’m sitting at a computer because I know that there is always the option to delete what I said.
What I learned this semester is just a start. Like I said before, writing is a process, and there is so much left for me to learn. I plan on continuing to explore and enhance my own writing for many years yet to come.
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