Writing for Me
My writing before this semester was structured and rigid and not up for compromise. I was taught to write a certain way and nothing should change about it. I came into this semester expecting a rigid, “fact-heavy” curriculum that focused on molding me into the intellectual writer the Professor expects all his students to be. I came out of it more self-engaged, more aware of my power as a writer. I am starting the journey of understanding how my words can connect with an audience. I’ve learned how to self-analyze. This course has helped me focus on me and not what I think would please those reading.
All through high school I had thought of myself as a creative and well-rounded writer. I always felt superior in my writing abilities in contrast to my peers. My friends would always compliment my essays when I asked them to proof read. My AP English and Literature teacher had few comments on how to improve my writing. But high school writing isn’t actual writing. It was preparing me for a college application. It was a formulaic system shaping me into a model student that would have the widest appeal to universities. I wasn’t writing for myself. I wasn’t writing to have a conversation with the audience. I was writing to please my teachers. I was writing what I thought would make them the happiest. I was writing for a grade, not a purpose.
I lied in my application essays. I embellished my achievements and aspirations for higher education. I used all the tips and tricks taught to me by my writing teachers. I developed a perfect introductory paragraph with the best thesis statement. I wrote three well-developed body paragraphs for each topic I laid out in my thesis. Then in the conclusion I tied every point back together in a nice little bow. It was boring, uninteresting, safe. I wasn’t myself.
This semester has taught me not just how to write for me, but how to sing for me, how to enjoy the little things for me. It taught me how to focus on me and not those around me. It taught me to listen to myself and write what I really mean, not what I think others want to hear from me. I stopped using my education as a way to satisfy my family and my friends. I started thinking of myself. I’m changing majors now because I realize as much as I love music, a BM in Choral Music isn’t going to foster that love. I want to pursue a career in the car industry. I love cars and safety and I’ve made it my goal to work as an executive at a top car manufacturer. I’m not turning my back on music. I’m making more time for me to participate in the music I want to. Instead of devoting all my time to strenuous language classes, confusing conducting courses, and mind-fucking theory lectures, I’m picking up classes in finance and econ, subjects I actually understand and can navigate. It’s giving me the opportunity to participate in a choir without feeling completely overwhelmed by music.
I didn’t start this conversation with myself of what I really wanted to do until I took WRIT 150. With the first assignment, I basically tore into my rebellious phase as a teenager. I looked into myself and tried to understand why I made decisions that were sabotaging my future. With the archive, I explored how experiences with model planes were really an indication of a deep-seated fear of failure that I further explored in my intellectual autobiography. This entire semester I challenged myself to observe and dissect my past and present. It made me question why I was actually here at USC. It made me realize that I wasn’t pursuing this degree for me. I was sticking with it despite feeling worse and worse about it every day because I felt I owed it to the department heads who helped me get in. I felt like I owed it to my family, who always told me I need to “use my gift” and pursue music because I might never get the chance to do it again if I “gave up” on it. I’m never going to lose music. If anything, now it can be a more significant part of my life.
My improvement in writing is a reflection of that. I stopped writing for others. I stopped writing for a prompt, following a structure, making sure everything is written just as it was taught to me in high school. I stopped following the expectations I figured people had for me and said screw it. I took this writing and made it what I thought it should be. This course has influenced me to be a more selfish person. Being selfish to an extent is not bad. When it comes to my personal, mental, and intellectual development, the only person who matters is myself. I shouldn’t have been writing for other people in the first place. Writing is one of the few ways of self expression that connect on more than just one level with an audience. Being a selfish writer allows me to make my points and let them be heard by the audience. It tells them that this is my stance, come and talk with me about it. It shows them who I am, not who an educational system thinks I need to be.
My writing and my choices in my future, whether it be professional or artistic, are inextricably linked. Writing for me allows me to better understand who I am. It lets me get that person that I am out into the world. It influences my personality. It opens my eyes to what I can do for myself.
This entire essay is all “me, me, me” but that’s what I want my writing to be about. I want people to know who I really am. I want to make a name for myself AS myself. I don’t want to conform to any boundaries I had set up before. I don’t want to constrict myself in an effort to be liked. I am me and that’s the most important part.
