I’m an author, a writer, and an artist of words. I pull the muse toward me during work or sometimes in the middle of the night in dreams. She rambles in tangents while I am trying to make lists for my shopping or she sleeps when I have my computer open for the next installment in a story. Either way, she is my muse and she helps me be who I am.
Yet, from the time I was a very young girl, my teachers have seen my want to spin good stories. This acknowledgment is great if I needed praise or a steady guide, but instead they try to cage my muse. “Oh! You’re a writer? Great! Let’s put you into Creative Writing 101,” they crow. I then am shoved into a seat and told what to write and how I should proceed. I then fail the class, since I cannot be tamed like that. I cannot turn my muse suddenly into writing poetry when she has never had a knack for it. Sure, I can write a children’s story, but now you want me to illustrate it? No. I just cannot draw. So, I turn in half of the project.
It is happening again. I am in college, again, trying to get a degree to make money. I already have said my books aren’t published anywhere but online, so I am not making money off of them. I need a new degree to make it in the world. But, this means my counselor is once again thinking my English courses should be reflected around my love for writing. I’ll pass, because I have to, but my muse is being beaten every time.
My poor muse is sitting in a corner even now. On Monday I start another “creative English” class. She is crying and hoping that we can get through the next eight weeks without killing her. I hope so, too, since I have so many stories that need finishing.
I wonder if there have been any authors out there that actually cheered when they saw homework in these classes? Anyone ever think that a class with strict guidelines can teach creativeness? Sometimes I am too curious for my own good.
Here is to hoping that eight weeks goes by fast.