I decided that I would only write what I know about myself which is necessarily subjective and existential, but it is a means of getting at my truth. In doing so I think it is possible to strike the universal.
At least I hope so. Thank you Karen. This work has been fermenting for so long but it feels liberating to get it out there. Oddly, although it is deeply personal it now exists as something else as well—a piece of creative writing of which I am proud. It is an interesting experience for me as a writer and a reader.
I really enjoyed your story, it was subtle and moving in a quietly powerful way. I very much look forward to reading more of your work.
So while you piece was specific to you, it also resonated out from there and that is something special. I hope you keep working at your writing. I look forward to seeing where you take it and listening as your voice develops. Thanks Stefanie. By stripping the journey to its spare elements, I hope that the specifics of experience touch universals others can relate to.
That is, for me, where the really interesting conversations lie. You are commenting using your WordPress. You are commenting using your Google account.
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Learn how your comment data is processed. Skip to content We should only believe in our feelings, after the soul has been at rest from them; and express ourselves, not as we feel, but as we remember. May the conversations continue. Like this: Like Loading Keith held a lot of power over the house with his anger. As a result, I did a lot of hiding. If I could be unseen then I could roam freely and not be a target.
Voice in Writing Essay - Words | Bartleby
I sought refuge in books. In a bad neighborhood, a good book is a safe house, with the porch light on, ready to be entered.
My childhood home had a big bookshelf filled with self-help books no one was cracking open, clearly. But, at the very top, smooshed together, were dusty, black, leather-bound anthologies containing words and forms I had never seen before. They felt sage-like, filled with wisdom. I was fascinated by how the words rearranged themselves on the page to describe a feeling or an event. How lyric and rhythm flowed together to serenade me into wanting more. These sonnets, sestinas, haikus, free verse, villanelles had power over me.
Poetry, the punk rock of the lit world, was seducing me. I was falling in love with language, what language could do. What I was reading was the antithesis of what I was hearing in my house. I never wanted to be home, so I walked around my neighborhood, ruminating. I have learned that the wellspring of my loneliness has always been rooted in the position I hold in the world as a queer citizen.
I am compelled to soak in the language of my community, to observe the environment and then respond. To engage as someone who is haunted by words. I tried to leave writing twice, refusing to believe it was possible this practice had chosen me.
I denied the need to write and told the muse to get off my back. What words do you choose? How can you elaborate? Dive down in detail. From your memory, retrieve as much complexity as you can.
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Name names! How well you use the simplest, but most arresting descriptions will have a direct bearing on the effectiveness of your essay. Let your reader see what you see, feel what you feel. Place the reader in your shoes. When you write about your feelings, reactions, opinions, observations, ask yourself over and over again why you think as you do. Lay the groundwork for your personal voice. Generate a solid description, and then and only then paint the vivid picture. Somewhere along the line — often toward the end of the essay — explain how you view your thoughts in hindsight.