In 2 days, I graduate from the University of St Mark & St John with a 2:1 Bachelor of Arts in Creative Writing. So, that’s a thing that I’ve done with my life.
When I was in Year 2, my teacher Mrs. Salt set us a task; write a story. Any story, about anything. And as far as my memory can stretch, that was the first time I’d really been asked to do this, though I’m sure that I’d written before. And apparently, what I wrote was, for a Year 2, somewhat exceptional. My memory is, as you might expect, somewhat hazy, but I recall much fuss being made about it, recording it on tape and having it shared to other teachers and stuff. This was the first thing I’d really excelled at in school, and to me, it was just something I enjoyed doing anyway. So from there on out, I kept doing it. It become sort of… my speciality.
As a side-note, here’s what I remember of Year 2 Kristian’s work of fiction: It was about a woman who dived into a pool, continued diving, and emerged into a kind of a floating island paradise. It encompassed more than two whole pages of what I believe was A5 paper, so not a whole lot by adult standards! It sure felt like a lot at the time, though.
Anyway, fast forward a decade or so to my GCSE’s and I’d often have gone through phases of writing stories throughout my life. The natural course was to take English Literature as one of my three A-Levels, as one of my only academic strengths, and when it finally came down to deciding what to do with my life past that point, I looked back throughout my life and unsurprisingly chose the one constant thread of productive ability I’d developed. Creative Writing stood out to me from the outset as a course that would not only be familiar territory, but be actively fun to pursue. You don’t need a Creative Writing degree to be a writer, but it would certainly help me hone those skills and integrate them further into my conscious lifestyle. Wouldn’t it?
Well, I don’t regret choosing it. I met some amazing people and learned some amazing things. My skill in writing undoubtedly improved, even when my motivation did not. The course provided many sources of inspiration, pushed me into writing what must now be the majority of my fictional works, caused me to pursue other writing projects such as this blog, and taught me that many – maybe most – writers are as directionless and perturbed by life as I am. Which was something of a comfort.
I expected two things to happen by the end of university: One, I’d enhance my writing skills and come out the other end ready to write a novel and kick-start my writing career. Two, I’d develop as a person, both socially and philosophically, and emerge from my third year as an adult who’d forged new outlooks on life that thwarted my anxieties and other issues. But, much like the short-term solution of student loans, I’ve finished uni worse for these things than when I’d entered. Okay, I’m a better writer now, but I’m nowhere near ready to start a novel… and the second expectation was incredibly off the mark. If anything, I regressed.
The naked truth of it is that I chose to pursue this Creative Writing course because it seemed like the natural progression that rewarded a short term distraction from the uncertainties of adulthood in return for 9 hours of my time per week. 6 starting from the second year. As a course that was primarily driven by self-improvement, the uni allocated very little in the way timetabled lectures, and this allowed the lowly-motivated and easily distracted students (see: me) to treat the course as almost a second thought. Don’t get me wrong, I worked hard for my degree, and so did the others on my course. But personally, I failed to develop as a person and as a writer due to my ability to procrastinate and feed my brain’s ever-hungry reward centre.
I wrote a blog post at the start of the year essentially outing myself as not being ready for life and exclaiming that this year would have to see me making some big personal changes as I transitioned out of student life and into the ‘real world’. And since I finished uni those many months ago, I’ve developed more as a person outside of the course than I did in my 3 years there. In finding a job and settling into (temporary) financial insecurity, I’ve found myself becoming more confident and willing to do things that I’d have previously shied away from, due to it being outside my comfort zone. I’m still an unorganised bundle of neuroses with bouts of laziness and fear of living, but I’m managing it much better now. Things that once bothered me are now common practice. I feel more confident when I’m out and about because I finally got a damn haircut and look less like a teenager by the day. And I’ve surprised myself but completely changing my lousy work ethic around, and changing from wanting to do as little as possible to feeling lousy if I go too long without being productive… which is kind of the way it should be, whether that be self-driven productivity goals, or simply meeting responsibilities at work.
But to reiterate on what has been, for many of you I’m sure, a surprisingly pessimistic blog post – I regret this university course not at all. Whilst I may not have grown as a person specifically at uni, it still put me on the course I’m on now, which is onward and upwards. It’s also given me the tools to subconsciously appreciate fictional works even more for what they do, which is an exponentially growing source of inspiration for my own writing pursuits. And I won’t bullshit you and say that I’ve got big plans on that front, because right now I’m still in life-transit, still outside of my comfort zone whilst travelling to the next one. I have a whole load of issues to deal with, whether they be emotional, financial or life-development, and if writing has to take a backseat until I’m in a more settled environment, then that’s fine by me. I used to have these dreams of being a young prodigy of a writer, but as I’ve all too slowly learned over the last three years, writing is 5% talent and 95% damn hard work – something that the Kristian up until now has been awfully bad at.
I’ll miss university all the same. The friends I made there I saw precious little of due to our sparse schedules; the lecturers were always kind and helpful, and I always found myself anticipating lectures… even if they did sometimes send me to near-sleep. It has been the last great bastion of certainty in my life, and leaving has been, and will continue to be no easy feat. But it’s time to move forwards now, I think, and develop the parts of myself that have been sorely neglected.
Further reading:
Movie – Wish I Was Here (Should be on Netflix.) Specifically, Adrian’s conflict between his ambitions and the call of reality. Also, Zach Braff.
Vlog – Unfollowing Your Dreams by Charlie McDonnell. Specifically, how it’s okay to alter the course of your life’s initial charting.
Perpetually Perturbed 