It's odd: I thought there would be a lot to write when I came here, but realize there's always been inspiration in conflict and there isn't much here. There isn't much to rage against. How long can you really care if your name isn't being pronounced right? There are no causes to champion here, nothing to rebel against. It is a state of un-being. But that's fine too, I suppose. I'm going home where a shitload is happening, so it should contain me for a while.
I can see why South Asian writers choose to not be in their countries and divide their time between being somewhere--anywhere else--and home. It's easy to be here. Well, if you have a source of income of course! Otherwise, it's ridiculously expensive being here, but from a social point of view, there are fewer expectations and greater liberties. It may be a man's world, but it isn't the patriarchal one most South Asians are accustomed to. There is a thin line separating the two, but in some cases, it makes all the difference. I'm not saying I'm going to do the same thing, but I can see the temptation.
Inevitably though, you also need to work harder to stand out of the crowd which, in the case of writing at least, can bring your work to an entirely different level. A more than welcome transition (and challenge). It's addictive. Competition, instead of being detrimental, can be incredibly addictive. Not that I felt I was competing with others on my course: everyone brought their own distinct style of writing and it's fair to say that nobody's "voice" was identical to anyone else's which, in the world that states all writing programs breed the same "type" of writers, was a more than acceptable discovery. It was one of my greatest fears, quite honestly, going in. Enough to ask UMass-Amherst alumnus, Kamila Shamsie, whether that were indeed the case. She denied it, and now I have my own experience to back that up.
There was a real and persistent fear that I'd left my best work behind me and that any remaining "talent" (negligible at best) was just an echo of former glory. So it was nice to hear in my old stomping grounds (DWL) that there has indeed been a vast improvement in my work and that I really wasn't fooling myself. I'm the sort of writer though, who does well in draft mode, meaning that my first draft of a project which was really pretty much what my course fellows were being subjected to, was pretty shitty. But I already knew that my best work comes after constant editing and shuffling around and restructuring, but you forget that when you're in a course reading some great material every week, and really questioning why on earth you were selected for a program that's brought such incredible talent. To say that I was never completely confident of myself, would be a vast understatement. But I'm getting better at negotiating that aspect of my work and I'm hoping that it will carry into another postgraduate degree, because there really is no better experience than being surrounded by other writers with zero expectations financially and on top of that, being invited to teach at the college level and gaining that instrumental experience if you so choose to go down the academic path which, let's face it, can be incredibly useful for a creative writer. Being part of a writing "culture", not having to worry about the financial toll it's taking on one's parents and ultimately have a space of your own doing something you truly love. It can't get better. And I don't think I realized how much benefit I can get from being in that academic setting if only to guarantee some sort of future (although in the arts, there honestly is never a guarantee), until a few months ago.
However, I think I can sufficiently say that idealism in general, if not in specifics, has been rooted out of me or is being rooted out of me. It's hard not to by cynical honestly in the world that we live in, as cliched as that may sound. But I do try, as you have to I guess, to find some optimism in a situation. If you search hard enough, it's hidden in there somewhere.
At the end of the day though, I'm a little happy that things haven't come easy including the writing "work" sometimes, because part of the fun is breaking through the obstacles and fighting your way through the shit life throws at you. It gives your life...purpose, I guess. It certainly did mine. I don't know what sort of writer I would've been had I been supported in this genre my entire life, instead of having to fight for what I wanted. At the end of the day, it did make me a stronger, more resilient and (hopefully) individualistic person.
That's just one aspect of the dream, really. The rest still needs to be wrestled and won.
Inevitably though, you also need to work harder to stand out of the crowd which, in the case of writing at least, can bring your work to an entirely different level. A more than welcome transition (and challenge). It's addictive. Competition, instead of being detrimental, can be incredibly addictive. Not that I felt I was competing with others on my course: everyone brought their own distinct style of writing and it's fair to say that nobody's "voice" was identical to anyone else's which, in the world that states all writing programs breed the same "type" of writers, was a more than acceptable discovery. It was one of my greatest fears, quite honestly, going in. Enough to ask UMass-Amherst alumnus, Kamila Shamsie, whether that were indeed the case. She denied it, and now I have my own experience to back that up.
There was a real and persistent fear that I'd left my best work behind me and that any remaining "talent" (negligible at best) was just an echo of former glory. So it was nice to hear in my old stomping grounds (DWL) that there has indeed been a vast improvement in my work and that I really wasn't fooling myself. I'm the sort of writer though, who does well in draft mode, meaning that my first draft of a project which was really pretty much what my course fellows were being subjected to, was pretty shitty. But I already knew that my best work comes after constant editing and shuffling around and restructuring, but you forget that when you're in a course reading some great material every week, and really questioning why on earth you were selected for a program that's brought such incredible talent. To say that I was never completely confident of myself, would be a vast understatement. But I'm getting better at negotiating that aspect of my work and I'm hoping that it will carry into another postgraduate degree, because there really is no better experience than being surrounded by other writers with zero expectations financially and on top of that, being invited to teach at the college level and gaining that instrumental experience if you so choose to go down the academic path which, let's face it, can be incredibly useful for a creative writer. Being part of a writing "culture", not having to worry about the financial toll it's taking on one's parents and ultimately have a space of your own doing something you truly love. It can't get better. And I don't think I realized how much benefit I can get from being in that academic setting if only to guarantee some sort of future (although in the arts, there honestly is never a guarantee), until a few months ago.
However, I think I can sufficiently say that idealism in general, if not in specifics, has been rooted out of me or is being rooted out of me. It's hard not to by cynical honestly in the world that we live in, as cliched as that may sound. But I do try, as you have to I guess, to find some optimism in a situation. If you search hard enough, it's hidden in there somewhere.
At the end of the day though, I'm a little happy that things haven't come easy including the writing "work" sometimes, because part of the fun is breaking through the obstacles and fighting your way through the shit life throws at you. It gives your life...purpose, I guess. It certainly did mine. I don't know what sort of writer I would've been had I been supported in this genre my entire life, instead of having to fight for what I wanted. At the end of the day, it did make me a stronger, more resilient and (hopefully) individualistic person.
That's just one aspect of the dream, really. The rest still needs to be wrestled and won.
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