>tfw taking a writing fiction workshop at my uni
>my first one ever
>professor tells us we have to read our pieces in front of the whole class and get feedback from other students
>tfw presentation day begins
>literally too scared to read my piece aloud
>tfw just opt out of doing it
Feels bad, bros
>take writing workshop
>read story out loud
>prof there stops me in the middle of the first sentence because I used the word "diurnal"
>he prances around the room saying, "Look at me! I'm Anon, the most gifted writer ever! I use pretty words like diurnal!"
>tfw the whole class laughs at me and calls me pretentious
What an asshole. My professor didn't ignore pretentiousness, but he expressed that in extremely thorough feedback notes where he put his own taste on the line, not in bullying.
It's true that using Latinate words too much can seem pretentious tho.
>he doesn't appreciate wordsworth
A SLUMBER did my spirit seal;
I had no human fears:
She seemed a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.
No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees.
I know those feels.
In the first year of my English degree we had a compulsory Anglo Saxon class that most people hated/resented. Slogged my guts out in that class. One week we were asked to do a translation of Dream of the Rood into modern English. The following week, I was the only one in the class who had actually done it, but didn't fess up to it because I was too shy and nervous around the absolutely gorgeous prof teaching the class and slightly ashamed of my (rather good and poetic but quirky) translation that I had sweated blood over.
Also spent that first year full of questions but too shy and overawed to attend lecturers' actual office hours. I would loiter in the corridor instead and lightly run my fingers over the hallowed nameplates on their doors, and then go and hide in the corridor.
It's a wonder I ever passed that degree, let alone with a good grade. Sometimes I was too excruciatingly shy to leave my room without spending literal hours on my (fairly average but not entirely hideous) appearance. It sucks to be a teenage girl.
TL;DR: I know those feels.
>he shares the things he wrote
>he discusses them with other human beings
>homework: write a classic script
>write a script of woman with an alien baby
>read it to everyone
>teacher stops me
>"Anon can you tell me how it finish"
>"well teacher it have an open ending"
>"anon pls get out of the class"
>i burned the script
TBQHWY I only ever come here for this pleasant blue board. I looked at /b/ a couple of times and was mildly horrified. I looked at /sci/ for a bit, but it was endlessly repetitive and full of wearisome one-upmanship by teenagers. This place seems nice. There's generally a good snark:lit chat ratio.
Mostly for intellectual and creative kicks. Also inspired by that cute prof, as I mentioned. Also, yes, out of nerdishness. I wanted to see if I could do the Seamus Heaney thing for a chunk of Anglo Saxon poetry. Literary translation can actually be quite a rewarding and interesting pastime in and of itself. I was never really one for hovering up cash/credit/kudos. Have you never done something just because? Smelt a flower? Kissed a girl? Um, read a book?
I had one of these this week. Ours is more technique based. We do a lot of writing 'engines' in class and use that to make original stuff. We're marked on our ability to use the techniques correctly for what we have written. Eg) choosing narrative by outlying a story and choosing the key scenes or moments and arranging them into a good dramatic shape (there's no right shape, that's not clear from this page, its just a method of rethinking structure, possibly improving pacing)
I messed up my degree under similar circumstances, I believe the phrase is 'imposter syndrome', common aspect of social anxiety and depression, was in my case anyway.
I'm redoing my current year from home and not socialising, but I feel a lot better for it. I read and write a lot more here, though I fear the NEET as much as I do work. I'm thinking of joining the army, which is strange, because I'm not 'army material', just hate the idea of a normal job and don't have many prospects for leaving smalltown
I'm taking a workshop class right now and, no shit, I'm the only guy in the class who gives enough of a shit to try and write something halfway decent. You would not believe what these kids consider worthy of other people's time and attention. None of them read, so how can they ever hope to be good at writing? It kills me. This generation is hopeless.
That's what I thought to be honest, We basically just covered Character desires and obstacles and and choosing and shaping narrative from a story. This is the lecturer's poem. He has some poems published, but I don't think many. Apparently he translates French ones, that may be why.
“Do you mind if I stay ‘til the rain stops?”
One woman comes in with her left arm already out of her coat.
Two girls sit by the door. They talk about sex,
waiting for a break in the clouds. When it comes,
one leaves on a BMX, the other on a skateboard.
The face of a waitress is reflected in the doorpane. The rain
Schoolgirls drink diet coke, and watch the weather. They complain
that smoking outside is a shit when
it’s wet. They shuffle
phones and lipgloss in punk handbags.
Terracotta pitchers with necks like sleeves
flaring on hooks above the bar.
A Spanish woman with a tattoo appears from the kitchen,
ready to make bloody sangria flow. But
this is England; we close early in April.
By refusing to join in with your peers, you became part of the New Swimcerity.
I sort of know this feel.
> write a screenplay for screenwriting lecture tomorrow
> will have to read it with others in the class
> script opens up with a guy talking in detail about people who eat shit
> script has problematic language such as homophobic slurs and ironic use of the word nigga
> my university is one that is heavily hit by the SJW plague
How deep does one need to dig a grave?
That sucks OP, don't pussy out on the workshop. Already had three people drop out of mine this term with excuses that pretty blatantly signalled nerves and possible mental collapse at the idea of reading their work.
Probably the worst was this woman brought in a single piece of 'fiction' about her worries about her drinking. She started crying and had to stop halfway through, and she cried for a few minutes before the teacher awkwardly moved on. It was hideous.
Still, workshops helped me see writing as more like stand-up than anything cathartic and confessional, which in the long-run was good for me. Good luck!
Every time we had to do some creative writing for homework in high school i skipped the next class because I knew there was like a 60% chance the teacher would read it out loud or worse, make me read it.
He dropped a comment once to the effect of, Mr Anon you're writing is hella decent, shame to see you throw your talents away like this. Hit me right in the feels.
>>he prances around the room saying, "Look at me! I'm Anon, the most gifted writer ever! I use pretty words like diurnal!"
Goddamnit, I wish this really happened
You have to do it, though.
In my creative writing class I got a rep as a cutting but gentle critic who could give and guide great feedback to even the worst writer.
Then came my turn. Feel sick and disoriented, cringing in shame, everything I've ever said sounds hostile from here.
You just have to eat it. There's no other way.
Everyone says that my work is very beautiful, but I literally just talk about how much I love attractive buildings and nature. I think I am so inoffensive that the other people feel no reason to shit on me.
My creative writing prof did this too. I yelled at him for a little bit about how writing is made to exist in written form. Then I read my piece, making sure to painstakingly point out every place where there was important punctuation, which in my work is every two words or so.
>Already had three people drop out of mine this term
That reminds me of a thing DFW said, where he had a reputation of being the Grammar Nazi on his campus so that only about four people were left in his classes. God that would've been amazing.
i am unironically the best writer in my workshop. this is a meaningless distinction as anyone these days can get into a workshop for lack of competition. kids thinkin they can write.... without reading
If you professor knew how to write, he wouldn't be teaching.
The two aren't comparable. Teachers are subsidized by society, they are beyond all censure, they are fundamental to every field and have job assurance that isn't based on competence, demand, or worth. This is true in both the public and private sector, most professors are totally unqualified, and will rear a whole new generation of mediocrity to replace them with no incentive to do otherwise. I know the first thing I did after graduating was get a job teaching at my college. It was good and easy money.
1st year writing classes are the best. i'm by no means a wordsmith, but it's quite clear that some students are self-described writers who have had perpetual writers block for the past 5 years.
i think there is some value to be gained, i only took mine as an elective but don't regret it. most of the best advice is given when you actually do present your work and receive criticism. but you could probably save yourself the trouble and find some writing club that freely reads and discusses with each other.
best thing that happened in my class by far though:
>obese, trenchcoat-wearing neckbeard that spends every class grimacing when people read their work and then giving very unhelpful criticism (eg. 'that was pretentious' or 'it was too long')
>finally his time to present
>actually was looking forward to this since i knew it would be high quality cringe
>he distributes copies of his work to everybody, it's written in that showy cursive font
>story is about a petite girl reading in a bar
>our chivalrous narrator approaches her and they exchange the kind of witty banter that could only exist in the mind of a socially stinted manchild
>he flirts with her, at one point calls both of them something to the effect of 'intellectual refugees, in a sea of macho idiocy'
>story ends with them holding hands and leaving the building
>neckbeard was pummeled by criticism, even the teacher said it was a 'cliched mess'
>he never came back after that class
i took a creative writing class about 8 years ago with the author of pic related
he was a massive prick when it came to grading other people's assignments, but every class he read something like https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0r21w8ht6lA so we were ok with it