Lately I’ve been interrupting my already-slow novel progress by writing notes about how I would teach creative writing if I had absolutely no restrictions on how to teach creative writing. No grades, no trying to be academic or logical or reasonable. How would I teach myself creative writing, if I went back in time? What would be fun to say and do?
These notes have turned into Lit Window: An Esoteric Course in Literary Artistry (or some other subtitle I will come up with later which will be better.)
If I were a fancier lady, I would have already completed this course before even mentioning it on here — I would be spending today scheduling posts instead of waxing poetic about what I’d like this space to be. But I’m not that kind of person — I like to live on the edge, you guys — so instead I’m going to build out this course live, right in front of you, risking the horror and humiliation of not finishing it (or worse: finishing it and it not being any good.)
Nah. Of course it’ll be good.
It’s gonna be free. Maybe later I’ll incorporate some sort of paid element (subscriber chat? Live calls or something?) but for now, I just want to write stuff down and post it and not worry about any sort of hustle.
The main thrust of this course is the following: literary artistry is a form of magic, and to teach it outside of a magical context is… fine, but also a bummer.
My definition of creative writing is the transmutation of human consciousness into language. I used to believe the purpose of creative writing was to transmit sensation from one body to another, but now I think that the true purpose of transmitting that sensation is to instigate transformation.
I think that when we write, we are creating microcosms of the world. We are performing an act of creation, through the power of play, and the best teacher of creation is the world itself.
In other words: The world teaches us how to write it. Nature teaches us how to write the world.
This course will invite you to develop your relationship with the energetic building blocks of reality — cheesily enough, the metaphysical elements of earth, fire, water, and air — and to practice literary techniques that are associated with each of those elements.
Because this course is being created by me, a Human Person with Problems, it will be especially effective for people who have those same problems. Here are some of the painful stories I’ve struggled with — if they sound familiar, this is the place for you:
How do I write something that feels real?
What if I’m not present and observant enough in daily life to actually describe things in my writing?
If I was really destined to be a writer, why does it feel so scary and uncomfortable to write? Shouldn’t I be writing all the time?
If I was a real writer, I’d read all the time, for fun, like I did as a kid, but I’m just scrolling.
How do I know when I’ve written enough? How do I know when I’ve accomplished enough?
Something that has been essential for me over the past ten years has been cultivating discipline and creating containers of time in which to work. This course will incorporate daily, weekly and quarterly protocols so you can feel as though you are making actual progress (because you will be.)
I want this course to be both magical and grounded. Literary and metaphysical. Most of all, I want it to be useful — no matter what genre you’re writing in. No matter how much experience you have or don’t have.
Sound good? Here’s the subscription thingy:
If you would like to support me further, I would appreciate it so much if you would consider pre-ordering my new book.
Hugs! Thanks for reading!
Jaclyn
This sounds super cool, can’t wait to dive in.
Jaclyn, This sounds amazing.