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When I was 7, I wrote out a story about a runaway princess as a thank you gift for Miss Waroll.
11 years later, I got home from an Oxbridge-ridden poetry competition and made my scissors jump into splits then pirouette down my arms.
Capitalism and those snobbish enough to refuse belief in magic would have us believe that creative writing is instrumental: to be pulped for profit or academic essays or audience claps.
‘We regret to inform you that, because your writing has proven insufficient in serving these Keres(1), you are a failure’.
But I want to write just because. Just because I can capture perfectly a feeling. Just because it makes me feel like I’m floating, flying.
When I was 7, I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to invent human wings when I grew up, or whether I wanted to be an author.
Nearly 12 years later, I now see these as identical.
(1)In Greek mythology, the Keres were malevolent spirits who brought pestilence and ruin. They feasted on dead and dying warriors. ↩︎
When I was 7, I wrote out a story about a runaway princess as a thank you gift for Miss Waroll.
11 years later, I got home from an Oxbridge-ridden poetry competition and made my scissors jump into splits then pirouette down my arms.
Capitalism and those snobbish enough to refuse belief in magic would have us believe that creative writing is instrumental: to be pulped for profit or academic essays or audience claps.
‘We regret to inform you that, because your writing has proven insufficient in serving these Keres(1), you are a failure’.
But I want to write just because. Just because I can capture perfectly a feeling. Just because it makes me feel like I’m floating, flying.
When I was 7, I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to invent human wings when I grew up, or whether I wanted to be an author.
Nearly 12 years later, I now see these as identical.
(1)In Greek mythology, the Keres were malevolent spirits who brought pestilence and ruin. They feasted on dead and dying warriors. ↩︎