Sunday, November 28, 2010

Margaret Atwood/A Path Taken, with All the Certainty of Youth

She's right and wrong. I agree and I don't. I like it and hate it. I'm wishy-washy, duuuh.
I never thought that artists and writers and creators had a singular defining moment where they suddenly realize what they are going to do, but I know it happens, and has happened, and maybe it happened to me, but I don't remember. I'm tired of the writer-especially the female writer-as being generalized by her suffering, her tragedy; whats worse is I feel I fall into the suffering tragic, all ambiguity absolutely intentional. I'm tired of writers not being taken seriously, but I don't expect to get a serious job with my creative writing degree when I finally get it. Atwood brings out conflicting things with this essay, but I really love it because of that. I decided to get a writing degree because I've been writing since I was in 4th grade. But it was journal-writing. First-world pre-adolescent problems. Training bras, first periods, softball games, stupid older sisters, dying pets and their inadequate replacements. Then after my dreams of becoming an archaeologist were dashed by reality and budget-cuts, I found myself taking my imagination more seriously, writing more fluidly, re-reading the volumes I'd written: 1997-2008. I didn't take writers seriously, either. But not like "Idiots, losers, there's no money in that, thats stupid, self expression is stupid". More like "They aren't real. They can't be real. I could never write like Nabokov or Murakami or Gaitskill. They aren't even real people, they're like Gods or something." But I changed my major from Anthropology to Creative Writing anyway.
I'm not sure where I was going with that.
Anyway.
I like reading about writers becoming writers. Its the same as reading cookbooks.

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