Here's a photo I took this morning on my way back to res.
The work I brought in this time was not an essay for a school course, but two pieces of writing I'd like to enter in a contest or possible to be published in a school magazine this year.
(...if you would like to skip my commentary, scroll down to read the piece of writing)
It's funny because whenever I'm confident enough to have a piece of writing edited or read by someone else, it means I'm feeling pretty good about it. So, I pulled out two of my better pieces, fixed a few things and brought them in.
Dr. P is only person I have met who seems to purposefully make me feel uncomfortable about my writing. Purposefully. But, that is one of the reasons he's my favourite writing instructor. He holds nothing back as he criticizes and fixes my writing. He asks me what I'm trying to say in every. single. sentence. Not only does he completely take apart the content, but he dissects the grammar as well.
I mean, how scary is it to have someone read your part of your diary and then ask what you mean by "I thought he was cute because he had blue eyes." Did you think he was cute because of his blue eyes? Did you think he was cute then you noticed he had blue eyes? Why did you think he was cute? Does being cute really have to do with his blue eyes? Or was it something more? Why did you notice he had blue eyes? I'm not following your train of thought!
Terrifying.
It really is.
What I mean to say is...Everytime I go to the writing centre with a piece of work, it (what a vague usage, we talked about this, I'm supposed to explain "it"-alright, what I really mean is, "the session") makes me feel terrible. It does. Going the the writing centre, I needed the assurance that it was a candidate to be published. Then as I'm trying to explain my emotions that I've written down on paper, I feel like I have no idea what I was thinking when I had typed it out.
It's as if he took apart my life in ten minutes and teaches me to put it back together in the next forty.
Nevertheless, I love going there.
Ironically, I always feel like the best writer I could possibly by the time I leave.
Going there I feel confident. Being there makes me feel like crap. But, before I leave, Dr. P always tells me that my writing is...good.
I suppose, that's why I keep going back. I'm always left with some renewed confidence and optimism which makes me forget that being there makes me feel quite terrible.
Despite all that, here is the piece we spent most of the hour on. It did have a title, but only because I needed one for it when I submitted it, but I prefer to have untitled.
Oh, just one last note:
A piece of writing is always a work in progress.
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