Taking a creative writing class this year is a big breather for me. After all those math classes, finally getting to indulge in something that I have wanted to do for a long time was amazing. I wish I had taken it earlier in my school years. But it's never too late right? (Unless I die lah tomorrow)
But I have to admit that with all the pleasures it brought me, it also stripped me of all the protection I enclosed myself in. It's like a virus alert on your laptop went off, notifying your laptop's being threatened by Trojan except I'm the laptop and insecurities is Trojan. And forgetting the very bad analogy, what I mean to say is: I've been hit with insecurities.
When I started writing again this semester, I had to read a lot. But I didn't read in the way that I used to, I didn't read to immerse myself in the authors' different worlds. I started reading into the way authors' used to words and how they stringed them into art. I started seeing the technicalities of it. Word usage, how she began the story, how he introduced his character. I need to do this so I can write as beautiful as they do, I thought. But after a while, it became tiring. Because the fact is, is that imitation is difficult. To imitate someone's style of writing is like stepping into a pair of Timberlands when you are a Nike Air person. And forgetting the very bad analogy again, but, to try and write in a way that is not you - it's just not your style.
And now I'm starting to learn to use my own voice... except I don't exactly know who and what she is. What happened was, when I started writing, the voice that came out (name of voice: Fern) was unfamiliar. I didn't know her. But every time I tried to write in the voice I thought I was, Fern took over again.
Discovering Fern created a conflict within me. I've always lived knowing exactly who I was and what type of person I am. I know my faults and strengths. I know that my favourite food is durian and I hate (HATE) tomatoes. So it was hard to admit there was a big part of me that I didn't know.
And it makes it even more difficult to discover that Fern is not who I want her to be. That Fern is not like Brontë or Rowling. That Fern is not the voice I wanted to write in. I'm still trying to love Fern.
(That would have been the perfect ending to this post but I'm going to ruin it by telling y'alls that I'M DONE WITH JUNIOR YEAR!!!! Emotional? Excited? Confused? Yes. Yes and yes. And also still sleepy from unrecovered sleep)