WRITING + READING + LEARNING
Between The Hammer And The Nail
Trying to knock sense into the younger generation is not for the faint of heart
In one of my earlier pieces on writing, Singaporean author Alvin Ang asked me in the comment section: why am I reluctant to return to teach writing? (or to that effect as I can’t recall the exact words).
To add a bit of context, I taught creative communications — journalism and creative writing being components — for 16 years. I left to set up a textile business which has nothing to do with the former vocation (unless you include guiding the social media content). I just felt it was time to move on.
Prior to the move, on social media, my students actively shared me their stories, tagging me now and then. They were all grown up, moving on with their lives, holding good posts and building their career in areas of journalism, advertising, filmmaking and design. Many were pursuing their post-graduate studies (I was often writing their recommendation letters), getting married, and several even welcomed their first child.
Those who were often in trouble were now clean and sober. And yes, I made sure they graduated under my watch. Some took longer than others but phew, they made it.
Seeing them all grown up signaled the change of times. Time for me to let go of the reins I held in education. I released them willingly and ever so gladly.
Now it was time to focus back on me and the dreams I held growing up. This includes writing and doing art at a leisurely pace. I had missed writing immensely. I was done with writing management reports and marking students’ assignments. My return to leisure writing led me to Medium.
It then occurred to me, while being on Medium, some things felt… familiar.
To sum up the answer to Alvin’s question, it’s the same reason based on what I see is happening here on Medium as a writing platform — new/ aspiring writers not wanting to read, see and listen despite having access to many seasoned, published writers on board. It’s as simple as that, really.
But this is not a rant. On the contrary, it’s a gratitude piece.
About those new/aspiring writers…
It’s not about old dogs not wanting to learn new tricks. It’s about puppies just wanting to do whatever the hell they want, and call it creative freedom.
I find it fascinating seeing puppies trying to teach tricks which to me, without wanting to sound blunt, is like putting lipstick on a pig and teaching it how to sing. Hopeless vocation.
There are times on this platform I don’t even know what the heck am I reading.
Is this a satire?
Oh, it isn’t.
My bad.
Better not comment.
The mute and block buttons are my favorite. Thank you Medium.
It’s like the piece by Chris Thompson “Let’s Talk About Life Coaches” where he wrote about life coaches in their twenties/thirties who, after surviving one heartbreak or failure, offers coaching services to teach folks how to navigate their life.
Last time I checked, to even consider that, one had to swallow a few canisters of Himalayan salt, not just a ladle.
Medium is never short of advice. I grant you that. While there are some gurus who offer you this shiny picture of what’s at the end of the rainbow, I’d rather go with the ones who focus more on the mid section — the painful, sickening, soul-crushing process, because that is more realistic. Nothing comes easy and nothing comes fast.
That explains the articles by those who have been scammed and left bewildered by people they thought were professionals.
Today with everything being conducted online, when these con gurus and coaches fuck up, they too, do what immature folks do on dating apps — block you, ghost you, act like you don’t exist. It really is just the same at the end of a very bad day.
What I end up reading are very, very angry personal stories. But hey, freedom of speech, right? Dirty linens, salacious gossips with click bait titles are always more delicious to read, says many. That’s life experience too, correct? Different culture, different brain. Oh Medium.
Sometimes I lose the compass on what’s good, appropriate writing without stepping on someone’s toes who says otherwise. So I just throw fucks out of my window and write like tomorrow will never come.
But like I said, good writing advice is abundant here, in all shapes and forms, levels of professionalism, depth of expertise, scope of experiences.
You just have to take notes and apply them. And to do that, you have to put your ego at the door, nod your head, admit when you’re wrong you’re wrong, when you’re right keep going.
David Todd McCarty writes in “So You Want To Be A Writer”:
“I have good news, and I have bad news.
Let’s start with the bad news. There is no easy way to achieve success in a competitive field. None. If you were hoping there was one, let me save you a lot of time, money, and wasted effort. Quit now. Don’t even keep reading. There is nothing but hard work ahead.”
There you go, spoken like the real professional that he is. And that is the truth. He proffers on like the Yoda he is to me:
“I will go on, but that’s a cold, hard truth you might as well come to grips with right now. It will require more hard work and more time than you ever imagined. It will take so long and be so hard that if you think too much about it, you won’t bother. But there is a silver lining. The first bit of good news. If it’s not enough to keep you going, this isn’t for you. Here goes:
Most creative types are slightly, if not wholly, delusional.”
And that’s just the preamble.
What can be learned here is the simple truth: You’re either in this or you’re not. You’re either cut out for it, or you’re simply… not.
Don’t beat your head repeatedly against the wall when it gets hard because what did you honestly expect when it comes to good writing?
It’s no country for half-assess.
I stopped telling my writing students “As Oscar Wilde once said…” or “To put it in the words of Chaucer and Hemingway…” when they kept interrupting and asking me who these people were. My writing class would then become a history lesson which leaves me about 15 minutes left to teach actual writing.
Oh, the kids would love the story telling session. Who doesn’t? But kids today are as smart as they are cheeky. They’d ask you those questions pretending they want to know when they just want to kill time. Worried I’d have enough time to bullet through each one in class with “Okay, now you tell me what you think.”
I don’t have the heart to say No to their request, because in the sea of eyes in a classroom of restless spirits, there will be a handful of ghouls that are really there with the right heart and intention in place, taking notes and wanting to really be a solid writer some day.
Here’s the other reality I often tell my students — Don’t aspire to be a writer. Don’t dream of wanting to become a famous writer. Don’t concoct this imagination of being a writer as something like a rock star. The real world out there does not think so.
Oh, you’re a blogger?
So what?
That’s the reality out there. But don’t get mad when that happens. It’s just the way the world is.
Instead, I tell them: You are a writer. You already are one. Writing is a skill. The question is, how far do you want to take this skill? What do you want to do with it? Which part of the world do you live in? Does that part of the world recognize the labor of a writer, or see it as a profession? Or, in that part of the world, does the community see writing as just a component to a job? Does the community respect what a writer does?
Try this out: At a next social gathering, when someone asks you what you do, tell them you’re a writer. See how that lights up the room and see how you’re able to tackle answering that question. If it’s tough, what about it makes it tough? What part of that question do you struggle to answer? Which part of their response offended you? Why?
What kind of writing can pay your bills? Copywriting? But where do you end up? As an insurance underwriter? You write obituaries for the local newspaper?
The truth of that matter is, the world at large out there does not recognize what you’re talking about when you say you want to be a writer. In a world that needs more doctors, no one cares. In a world that needs more intelligent meaning, we are inundated with social media influencers profiting off mukbang and bad relationship advice (being a gold digger is good says a few with six digit followers). That’s where we’re at. Sad but true.
Do you see what the world is about?
As a former head of school for creative communications, I have a selection process for our journalism program. Without fail, every time I sit on the panel and ask basic questions, candidates fail with flying colors. They also shit bricks that I was called The Medusa. Strangely, it became a very popular program due to the venom I provided. These kids were seriously in need of love and attention, I tell you.
Medusa: What makes you want to become a journalist?
Candidate: I love writing.
Medusa: Great. What do you write about?
Candidate: My thoughts and ideas and stories about the world.
Medusa with snake head heating up: That’s vague. Can you be more precise? Who reads your work? Name your favorite periodicals and have you ever submitted any of your writing to a publication?
Candidate: Oh, I write for myself. I don’t quite follow the news and I’ve not shown my work to anyone.
Medusa with venom leaking the tip of the fangs: Let me be even more precise, if you were to choose a social cause to champion, to research, to defend and to fight for, what would it be? Just one. Anything.
Candidate: Hmmm… I never really thought about that.
Medusa with flaring nostrils and smoke coming out from her rattlesnake tail: You are aware that journalism is pretty much about the world around you that’s alive and evolving, filled with all sorts of occurrences, events and happenings as we speak. They’re all happening outside of your room and imagination.
Candidate: … [stomach rumbling]
Medusa with venom spitting out like Hitler during a rally speech: Once again, why do you enjoy writing and why do you want to study journalism when you seem to be very disconnected with the world around you? The world does not need another writer who writes based on what he/she thinks. We need more who write about the world for what it is.
You are just a medium, an instrument. You are to represent the voice of a larger population in a bid for greater good not for self-indulgence.
Candidate: … [shitting bricks]
Medusa now on fire: Here’s what you’ll do. If you are really serious about writing and to be part of this journalism course, prove it. Come back. This time, as a citizen of the world. Be a part of a cause, be a part of something bigger that may be scary but which you’re excited to learn.
Candidate: Where do I start?
Medusa regaining composure: You braved a question. Very good. Start with the classifieds.
Candidate: Classifieds?
Medusa: Imagine you’re looking for a job, any job. You’re desperate and you have rent and bills to pay at the end of the month. Study the classifieds, what are the kinds of jobs offered. What would you qualify for? Note the salary scale, job description, qualification, what companies? Locations? Look for patterns. Look for trends. Look for something that can shape into a story. Always look out for what’s odd and that doesn’t belong.
If this can get you excited, you are ready to come back for an interview. You have a better chance. Right now, you don’t.
As harsh as the above may sound, you‘d be surprised that for years I’ve had candidates return with better confidence, less idealism, grounded with more reality. They return fully awake with their heads out of the clouds. And ass.
On their graduation day, after the convocation ceremony, I often take them back to their first year and very pathetic interview and I ask them what changed.
They often tell me it was the moment they left their cocoon for the first time and entered a strange new world. That cocoon was protected and shielded by their parents who often misled them into thinking they were smart enough, good enough, spoiled to the core.
For students from broken families, they tell me, while they were easily inspired to write, but were often too saturated and hung up on their angst and feelings of injustice. They had no balance of the world. They act tough thinking they knew what was happening, only to realize they too barely stepped out of their self-designed comfort zones. No tattoos were enough. All the drugs and scarring made them more rejected by others when all they wanted was to be vulnerable.
I listen and nod with my hand to my chin, or akimbo, signature poses when I was in a lecture.
I straighten my back, fold my arms and take a deep breath.
My students leaned forward thinking I’m about to spew some final words of wisdom.
“Good grief you dramatic generation,” I laughed. “My attempt was to make you go home, do more research, read and come back prepared so you don’t bore me out of my skull during the interview. Like, seriously, do you know how ridiculous it sounds to want to be a writer and study journalism, pay an arm and a leg for it, but openly confess you don’t follow the news, you barely move around and you’re your own fan club. Who would want to hire you?”
With my head of snakes tucked in place, my kids laugh, cry and tell me they’re going to miss the safety nest they call college and university to enter a new sporting arena called the industry. An arena where I can no longer be there to protect them. They’re now on their own.
I hug and congratulate each one of them as I prepare for the next round of maudlin victims to discipline.
Every year, scholarships like the Fulbright US Student Program receives thousands of applicants and only around 20% of applicants will win one of the Fulbright awards. I’m quietly proud to say a few of these silly students of mine have been recipients of the scholarship. One of them today specializes in security and countering violent extremism.
Finally, he had found a cause that was beyond his bedroom and imagination. His head out of the clouds, feet planted on the ground with the rest of us.
To all my former terrified students in my classes in conjunction with World Book Day 2023. Reading, writing and learning never stops.
