3 Things I Learned About the Creative Process From Teaching Creative Writing

As I mentioned in my last blog on the topic, I’ve spent the last two years earning my Master of Fine Arts in Fiction at Miami University! Last summer, I came back to designRoom after my first semester teaching the required college composition classes with a lot of new ideas. Now that I’m back from another year of teaching, I want to share a few other things I learned.

In my final semester, I had the chance to mix it up and teach a section of Intro to Creative Writing. This class covered fiction, creative nonfiction, and poetry. Students needed to leave with basic ability to write in all three genres, judged through a final portfolio. I created the class structure, selected readings, built assignments, and read hundreds of pages. Every word my students submitted. I learned a lot every day I taught. These three things are the biggest patterns I noticed.

 

1. Starting really is the hardest part for everybody. 

It didn’t matter how easy I made the assignment, how simple the directions were, how totally open the grading rubric was – beginning a new project was consistently the hardest step for almost every student. An empty page freaks everybody out.

Not only that, beginning with a blank document was the hardest part of every lesson plan for me too. Filling an 80-minute class was definitely daunting sometimes, with near infinite ways to divide the time and endless incredible readings and activities I could potentially assign.

Beginnings can be hard because of that sense of limitlessness. Here’s a few things I did and encouraged my students to try to make the idea more approachable:

• Start with something you know is wrong, just to get past the beginning! You can always change it later.
• Pick a smaller task. If you can’t start, can you write a title? Can you write one good sentence? Any little thing can get your momentum going.
• Don’t try to start anywhere on purpose – write down the first thing on your mind. Sometimes it’s right, sometimes it needs to get out before the right idea can come. Either way, you’re started.

 

2. Your memory is a resource. 

Everything you create is born out of your life experiences. This might feel obvious, but I saw the truth of it in a new way when teaching students to access their memories on purpose.

I came in with a preconceived notion that young people would find it easy to think of memories with fewer of them to choose from. Instead it was the opposite. On the first day of class, I asked them to write down any memory from childhood. Many struggled with this task. One student blurted out that she couldn’t remember a single one in that moment. She later succeeded with more specific prompts (like the tips above!), and credits the class with helping her call on her thoughts, memories, and feelings on purpose.

Helping students come up with vivid moments in their memory and then seeing those moments in their writing was an unexpected delight. Beyond that, the process of remembering encouraged them to be more observant of their surroundings in the present as well. This experience taught me memory is a resource you can build in the present tense, and your future self will only benefit.

 

3. Creative writing is a social activity. 

As much as I will cherish the stand-out stories and poems from my students, the part that will stick with me is how important community is for the creative process. It’s essential.

According to my students, the best part of my class was never the part where I was talking. The gold came when I encouraged them to talk without me, to each other, as peers in a workshop. They’d read each other’s work in small groups and share praise, questions, and constructive criticism. In those conversations they found ideas that surprised each other and got out of their comfort zones.

Later, in reflection assignments, several students shared their perspectives on their first workshop. Even if the feedback wasn’t helpful, the process itself was. It forced them to consider the perspective of someone who hadn’t written their work, an audience. Workshop was a chance for them to view their own work differently.

I have to be honest. There was one student who was upset that a portion of their grade depended on engagement and participation. They had some pretty harsh words for me about it in the anonymous course evaluation, and I do understand how they feel. Talking about your creative work is vulnerable! It’s easier to decide that step is unnecessary. And while I regret their frustration, I’m confident that writing is not meant to be a solitary activity.

 

Allow me to get big picture for a second. Before humanity wrote things down words were only spoken. To quote a renowned historian, Will Durant, “Literature is at first words rather than letters, despite its name; it arises as clerical chants or magic charms, recited usually by the priests, and transmitted orally from memory to memory.”

In other words, composing as even a potentially solitary activity is a recent development in human history. I’d say written words are a conversation between the writer and the reader. As a matter of fact, I learned poets call the narrator the “speaker” to emphasize that connection.

That’s the thing I learned that’s staying with me most; the best writing is a communication between parties, not a one-sided exchange. Creativity thrives in conversation, when you let yourself be surprised, frustrated, confused, challenged, and honest. It can be hard to start alone. Inspiration might be elusive. No matter what, community is key to creating, no matter your skill level.