I am finally recovering from my Creative Writing & Mental Constipation course I took this summer in Missoula. Last year, the general consensus is that Bolton’s course from 2004 was not as good as the one this year by young Grad Student writer guy. Maybe from some perspectives, but the first one was much better for me - I gained tiny bit of confidence to give myself permission to jump in and put the words out there.
This year I found myself back in the tied-up-in-knots-can’t-write-a-word state I experienced at the end of my Honors Creative Writing course I took my final semester in college. Whatever “they” real writers do, doesn’t work with my process at all. I have processed my denial-anger-grief-acceptance cycle to know that I will never be a “real writer” by whatever standards they use at CutBank and other journals. However, I am regaining that sense I had at the beginning of the summer that I have a lot to say, and have begun to find my own voice in how to say it. This year’s Creative Confusion Seminar was just a little detour, but you can put all the “real writers” on their little island together, and hey. I won’t even try to attend your party, so you won’t be troubled by having to vote me off the island.
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