Look back at your mid-term story. Compare it to your final story.

How have you

If I’m honest, it’s hard to answer this question in a way that portrays me as the perfect writing student
who has applied all that they have learned in this piece, because — and I also further elaborate on this
in my later questions — my improvements as a writer are more evident in the ways I have reflected
during/on this semester and not so much in the content that I have produced at its conclusion.
 
In regard to the final process, let me start off by saying that I have learned a lot through the revision
regiment. Again, I discuss this in the “Process” question, but I have learned more about myself as a
revisor, about what it means to be a good writer, and how to approach the pieces that I create in a
radical, meaningful way. I picked up good techniques that I definitely plan to use in the future and better
understand what the process of revision can look like.
 
I’ve also learned that I need more time than eight days to revise a piece and be content with it,
especially with a story that is 14 pages long.

I am going through a stage of redefining who I am as a writer — a stage which has absolutely been kick
started because of not only this class but also my piece “Her Personal Venus”, a story which can be
described as an experiment and revelation for me — so returning to my midterm and re-creating it is not
as simple because I am not the same writer I was when I created that story. The radical revision that is
needed for such a story requires a lot of time.
 
I’m saying this not as an attempt to justify any issues with my final or excuse them. If I do not get the
best grade on this final story, so be it. I want to spend more time in this reflection and be honest in it
because the things that I have learned and am continuing to learn cannot be encapsulated in a revised
story that I had eight days to revise (during finals week no less).
 
While I am not on the whole pleased with the quality of writing for my final, I can confidently say that I
better recognize how my stories can be improved. I’m better at recognizing the scenes that should be
cut or expanded on as well as overall points of improvements based on feedback. For instance, during
our meetings, you discussed how you felt that my story was struggling between the past in the present
because of the ratio and placement of flashbacks to current scenes. At first, I will be honest, I
resisted this suggestion for a while because I really enjoyed my flashbacks. They are one of my favorite
parts about my writing, and I did not want to cut them out. However, when going through my story
during the revision regiment, I recognized the application of the feedback you were giving and also
embraced the notion that I did not necessarily have to cut out my flashbacks (or at least, not all of them)
to follow said feedback. Instead, I could focus on writing scenes about the present -- dialogue, scene
descriptions, or actions, amongst other things -- as a source for my revision. In this way, I would be able
to keep the parts of my story that felt authentic and meaningful to me while still addressing the
feedback I received. 
 
These revisions are evident in my final. I did focus far more dialogue and finding ways to keep the flow
of certain scenes in the present. I cut out sections, rearranged parts, and rewrote scenes that could
benefit from more description or expansion. For instance, in the scene when the characters are escaping
from the bus, I removed/moved the flashbacks in them and added more “present” sections. Hopefully,
the focus, drama, and suspense of the scene thus remains all in the present, keeping any reader
grounded in that moment and any emotions within it. There’s a better transition from the bus to the
walk in the forest, too. I also included more dialogue scenes between the characters; these scenes
absolutely made up a lot of my additions. In this way, the relationships between the characters, even if
just between a spare a few, such as Marinette and Daris, developed in a more natural, fluid way. I
wanted to incorporate those softer scenes into the story. This is a goal that I have had the entire
semester and want to continue to push towards. I still am not happy with my diner scene, but that is
something I am willing to accept as simply a point of continuous work.
 
In conclusion, the work that I am most proud of the semester has not been my final, as explained above
and in the following sections. But, point being, I am most proud of how much I have learned about the
writing/revision processes and my own processes due to my efforts on stories in this class. I happily
accept any grade I receive on this because I have better learned about myself as a writer, the techniques
that feel authentic to me, the processes that benefit me the most when it comes to my writing, and
what kind of writing I really want to engage with. For me, that growth, knowledge, and reflection are far
more significant and representative of my growth as a writer than my final piece could ever be.

What moves did you steal from stories that you read this semester? Point to
some moves you made in your final story and tell me what story they came from. 

Let me preface, I know that the question wants me to point out these moves that I made in my
final/revised story, but I’m going to be discussing them with my favorite piece I’ve written in the
semester because it was more significant to my development as a writer.

While all the stories we read the semester were super cool and I enjoyed them a lot, by far the one that
spoke to me the most was “An Unnecessary Man“. It undoubtedly inspired and heavily influenced me
when writing my favorite piece of the semester, “Her Personal Venus“. I can easily point out in the
things that I stole.

First, this story inspired me to try a first-person point of view. I usually do not write in this POV; I feel like
I struggle with it. My prior stories that were in first person perspective felt inauthentic and strangely
written to me. “An Unnecessary Man” turned my thoughts on the matter upside-down, and I decided to
try writing in that style, even if just once. Next, I feel like a lot of writing advice tends to err writers away
from writing in a very matter-of-fact kind of way. If I posted a single sentence from “An Unnecessary
Man” to a writing forum of some sort -- for instance, “As I stared at the unopened envelope, the cell
phone in my pocket began to vibrate. It was my manager.“ -- I feel that a lot of people would find that
sentence poorly written. They’d say things like, “Oh, you should rewrite it, so you’re not stating that it is
the manager but rather introducing or incorporating him to the scene somehow,” ultimately ending
with, “Show, don’t tell!” Yet, I didn’t feel like a story itself was poorly written at all. I actually really loved
the writing style. The author was telling you what was occurring, yet the deeper significance or themes
of the story as well as the characters, emotions, and thought processes were still evident. Just like the
novel Beartown (Yep, sorry, I know you’ve heard about this book many a time, but here’s one more
round), this story was yet another example of the ways in which something can be told and shown.
More and more I am unlearning the writing “tip” of “show, don’t tell“ because so many of my favorite
pieces actively break this rule, or, at the very least, play with the line like a jump rope.
Finally, as I mentioned in the reading response to this story, I really adored that the object in the story,
specifically the book, was so intimately tied to the story of the father. Instead of only using scenes to
describe the father, the author chose to use an object as well, and the one she chose was so significant,
meaningful, and profound to the story of the father, the daughter, and the larger themes in general. I
copied this technique in “Her personal Venus“ through the use of letters, written by the mother, as a
tool to discuss ideas around memory, love, and loss.

Tell me about your self-concept as a writer. How do you feel about writing? How
has this changed from the beginning of the semester? 

In freshman year, when I took the Storycraft class, I felt pretty confident in what my self-concept as a
writer was. I could name the styles I liked, my inspirations, and my mindset surrounding writing. After
this class, two years after Storycraft, I can honestly say that my answer to “what is your self-concept as a
writer” is so much less coordinated and sure. (And I find that this is a rather good thing.) I have realized
that I am currently going through a shift of writing where I am beginning to rethink all the things that I
thought were solidly instrumental to my identity as a writer.
 
For instance, my diagnostic and midterm story from this year are undoubtedly written in the style that I
have, for a long time, really considered to be true to who I am as a writer: dramatic plots with tons of
sub plots, character interactions, and huge “morals of story”s; an emphasis on the dramatic or shocking;
a third person omniscient narrator; and tons of long, drawn out scenes. These are all things that I had
considered to be part of who I am as a writer, yet my favorite story of the semester is the one that…
didn’t use any of these methods at all. “Her Personal Venus” had a very simple plot. It featured very few
characters and only two of them ever spoke. The story was in first person, not third, and it was certainly
not from an omniscient point of view. The scenes were not very shocking or dramatic; if anything, they
were soft, slow-paced, and thoughtful. Style wise, my word choice was not that different. The story still
features the same poetic, flowery language and flashbacks that I love. A person could read my story and
pretty reasonably figure out that I had written it. But besides those two exceptions, the story and the
way it is written are basically the exact opposite of what I had, for a long time, considered to be my
“concept”.
 
My point here is that I am finding that my self-concept does have some solid, concrete points that I
reliably use in my writing. I do love my flowery language. I love my flashbacks, this way of meshing in the
past with the present. (I also adore comparing light, such as sunlight or moonlight, to liquids, but that’s a
minute point.) However, the rest is up in the air. My favorite thing that I’ve written all semester has not
been my diagnostic, midterm, or revised final (all large projects) but rather the story that is arguably the
furthest from what I (used to) call my self-concept of writing. In this way, my writing has become
sloppier in some senses because I’m still exploring what feels exciting to me. It takes me longer than it
used to to write something because now I’m doing everything from a new angle. And, honestly, I do not
mind this at all. I was so excited and surprised by how much I loved “Her Personal Venus“, and I want to
continue feeling that joy and surprise each time I write.

How (and where and when) do you work best on creative projects? Describe your
ideal process & routine. Any changes or discoveries since the beginning of the
semester? 
I definitely learned a lot about myself in terms of my process, and that is something I can say definitively.
First and foremost, I have found that writing out the story in pen, not typing it, is really useful for me.
When I was rewriting my midterm as part of the revision regiment, I found that they were some sections
in my story that I just did not want to write — the writing felt weird, or it didn’t feel useful to the story,
or I just simply didn’t like point of it in general. So, when I got to those kinds of scenes, I simply did not
write them. In this way, it made it so much easier to go back to my story and recognize which sections or
scenes I really enjoyed and felt meaningful for the story versus which sections felt more like a filler,
page-waster with bad or simply personally unenjoyable writing. This technique is super useful for me in
regard to cutting down on a story because it indicates to me what scenes feel engaging enough to
rewrite and immerse myself in versus those that don’t. I also have found — and I have slowly realized
this throughout the semester — that I write better stories when I go into the writing process with zero
ideas of where the story will go. When I get caught up in these gigantic plot lines, sub plotlines, and all
these other things that I want to accomplish with my story, the story rapidly becomes bogged down and
hyper focused. I almost never have time to engage with these stories in the way that I had an
envisioned.

However, the story I’m most proud of and pleased with, “Her Personal Venus”, was done completely
without a plan. I did not go into the story thinking of the ending or what I was hoping to accomplish;
instead, I focused on the scenes that I was writing on and how I could make them interesting in and of
themselves. As a plot emerged, I stuck to that plot; I didn’t add a dozen other complicated, drawn-out
subplots. I told myself that the story itself would come naturally and would guide itself wherever it
would go; planning a complexly woven narrative isn’t worthwhile. Undoubtedly, this technique paid off
and gave me the most rewarding experience I had in this class.
 
In essence, going forward, when I engage with writing a story, I want to do so without a plan, or as little
as a plan as I can have; and when revising, I want to write the story out with pen. Both of these
techniques help me focus on the scenes/a single plot and how I can make them speak to me in a way
that is authentic and engaging to what I enjoy as a writer.

How do you think a "good writer" goes about writing? What does it look like for that
person? (And how has your answer changed since you thought about this at the
beginning of the semester?) 

A good writer, in my opinion, is somebody who is willing to treat their writing like a twisted science
experiment. As morbid as the metaphor is, I have learned throughout the class as both a student and a
writer that good writing means not being fully attached to any part or version of your story. You have to
be willing to completely scalpel sections, rework entire scenes, re-envision everything, or even rewrite
everything. You need to treat your writing with care and love in the sense of writing should speak and
feel meaningful to you. However, you must also be willing to, like a mad scientist, completely slash up
your creation for the sake of progress. I know have struggled with being too attached to my stories, but
there is also a relief in rewriting a story because each time you do so, you give it a more authentic and
meaningful voice. A good writer is someone who is willing to try the craziest things, to admit when they
failed, and to radically re-create their stories into something completely new. 

What's next for you—as a writer, a storyteller, a creative individual? How will you apply
what you've learned in this class? 

I have always struggled with maintaining things. Whether it is sticking to a project, maintaining a
schedule, or being dedicated to a certain goal, such actions do not come easily to me. As time goes on, I
almost always slip off the path and start doing something else. This is by far my biggest flaw as a writer.
I’ve been trying to address this shortcoming for a long time and still struggle to do so. I know that having
a source of external pressure helps me write because then I work with the knowledge that my time and
effort impacts others: my friends, teachers, and peers are expecting to read a good story, and the
teacher and writing peers especially are expecting to have it by a decided upon point in time. Such a
motivator, though, is extrinsic, not intrinsic. While it is useful, it cannot be sustained independently or
long-term.

What I have discovered this semester relates to what I wrote above in terms of my self-concept. Writing
“Her Personal Venus“ was so much fun for a variety of reasons, but I looked forward to writing this story
because it discusses themes and topics which are therapeutic for me to write about. My goal was not to
speak to others but rather to myself. If (as G. Willow Wilson said) a comic book writer’s story is a love
letter to the artist, then my stories are a love letter to myself. If embracing this idea means that I write
the same story thousand times over, so be it, because if that is the story that I want to tell, then I shall
tell it.

I do want to write more consistently. I want to create stories, characters, worlds, lessons, and meaning
in all the things I do. And I believe, really, that achieving this goal begins with a selfish standpoint. I
should not be writing to turn a story in or so somebody can read it… I am writing as if I am the only
audience there is. As if I’m speaking to myself. Sure, when I write a piece, I can share it with others —
perhaps with my friends, which I tend to often do, or perhaps a writing community or even a publisher
of some sort. Sure, if I decide to do so, I will need to recognize my pieces through somebody else’s eyes
besides my own. But regardless of how my writing process concludes, I think that its beginning should
be a selfish one. I will write for me; my stories are a story to myself, of myself, for myself. And, if I’m
being honest, I think that is the way it should always be done. That is the way of a good writer: writing a
love letter to yourself.