okay, so i joined a creative writing workshop last saturday. i thought it was about time i improve on my writing skills and maybe learn a trick or two on how to write creatively.
however, no tips or tricks were dispensed that day. instead, we were asked to write a letter to ourselves describing the place we live. a writing prompt that gave us 30 minutes to exercise our minds and purge out words from our pens.
i never really had any trouble writing it. just as i didn’t have any trouble defying the instructions. because while i started with “dear jan,” i followed it up with sentences and paragraphs describing a house i have not lived in for 12 years. i don’t even know why i chose that as my subject. i guess i’ve never really been a stickler to rules.
as we were all just sitting down, it wasn’t my knees that were shaking when i read my writing out loud to an audience of strangers. it was my voice. funny how the words flowed smoothly while i was writing it but when it came to actually reading it for other people to hear, the words somehow became unreadable and all i heard was the beating of my heart clashing against my thoughts silently screaming “omigod, why did i even volunteer to read this crap?”
somebody in the group must have uttered “wow!” because that was the first thing i heard when i finished reading my last sentence which wasn’t really a sentence because it ended with a question mark. either that, or i was hallucinating. but they all thought it was really good and i was just in disbelief as i still am now. like, really?!
fiona tuomy, the coach, said it was a creative piece of work. jeff, who’s very creative himself, thought it was brilliant when i read it to him later that night. (bless him, he is such a wonderful and supportive husband.)
so now i wonder, WHAT (REALLY) IS CREATIVITY?
but more importantly, why can’t i see it in myself when i can so easily and clearly see it in others? weird.