WRIT 340 Writing Project 1

Revisiting Past Writing: Unpacking the Complexity of Circumstance & Context

Part 1: Zoom In

My relationship with writing has always been an interesting one in the sense that I know I am good at it and that I have a lot to say, yet when faced with the opportunity to actually put words on the page I become like a deer in the headlights. I feel as though the last morsels of creativity have left my being and I am left grasping for insights to potentially string together and hopefully gain the approval of the only person who is actually likely to read the thing. Although not entirely different now by any means, I am able to reflect and can admit that my appreciation for writing, both my own and that of others, has grown and evolved over the years.

I think this shift came upon realizing that writing doesn’t have to be exclusively academic or even formal. Rather, writing and the impetus for it exists within the desire to uncover truth and a deeper understanding of something. When I journal and discuss, in great detail or not, the events of my day, the writing holds the same validity as an academic paper. When texting a long distance friend and telling them that I love them and that I hope their year is going well, the writing holds the same validity as a scientific journal. When I carefully select and curate a handful of words for an Instagram caption, the writing holds the same validity as a forty page reading due for class the next morning. This consciousness has allowed me to somewhat take the pressure off when it comes time to sit down and open a blank document. Nonetheless, the act of writing still continues to terrify me. 

Reflecting now on this subtle mindset change, it seems only logical to take a closer look at my writing which occurred during this time of my life and discuss the implications among other observations. After graduating high school, the first composition class I took was as a sophomore at the University of North Texas in the fall of 2022. As a member of the honors college at the time, it was a requirement to take one honors course a year to remain in good standing with the school. I chose to fulfill my credit in the English department. Because this was an honors section, our class was quite small, under twenty students maybe, and the expectations and structure of the class were much different than that of a typical section.

I entered that semester feeling very uncertain about my ability to perform well in that particular group of students; I was out of practice. My senior year AP Literature class was cut short due to the pandemic and my entire freshman year of university was filled with music classes, which meant no “academic” reading or writing for me in the past 1.5 years and yet I was jumping into an honors writing course—what had I gotten myself into? While my peers were discoursing about classic literary novels and connecting them to modern day political events and the repercussions of so on and so on, I chose to write my final paper about milk. Yes, that’s right, cow’s milk. A concept so foreign in my current city of Los Angeles was the main character in my Honors College Writing II final essay (don’t worry I still get my lattes with oat). 

The creation of this work was entirely process driven. Almost the entire second half of the semester was dedicated to the final paper with benchmark assignments due every couple weeks. First, we wrote a proposal about what we would be asserting. Next, the introduction and conclusion paragraphs were due, then the body, and finally a counterclaim. Even after the final paper was submitted, the class continued to work on additional “remix” assignments where we would change and workshop parts of the paper. There was a great deal of focus on structure and writing semantics which were intended to make our argumentative papers the strongest they could be—emphasis on “strong.” The entire duration of the course was spent putting forth the way to write an academic paper, and without following the process in its entirety, the class was left to believe our work would be compromised and weak. 

When reading the paper again, I feel very proud of the piece not in the sense that I am excited about the writing itself, but rather that I was able to do what was asked of me in crafting a strong, pointed paper. The sentences almost read as formulaic to me now and it feels strange that I once typed them. The words are colorful and illustrative and they don't feel like my own. What they do feel like, is a product of Thesaurus.com when I couldn’t think of another “strong” word to further my claim. Nonetheless, I completed the assignment and I did it well, end of story.

I think it’s interesting to note that while I was taking the composition course I was also completing my transfer application for USC. In any regular state of existence I would normally get extremely overwhelmed balancing this period of high volume writing and probably shut down all together. However, I think that while the research writing in my class didn’t necessarily invigorate me, it did allow me to take pride in my abilities, and consequently allowed me to work on my application essays in a much more fluid state. I wasn’t concerned with the formalities of my USC supplements but much more focused on capturing my essence as a human being and student. And quite frankly, I think the rigid writing process actually encouraged me to find all the ways I could defy it outside of the classroom, resulting in work that was authentically myself and what I believe was a large part of my admittance to the school. 

My first year at USC was spent as a BFA Musical Theatre student in the School of Dramatic Arts. A large majority of my time was spent singing, acting, and dancing and much less concerned with the traditional class format from which I was used to at my previous school. With a large amount of this training being grounded in the philosophy of truth and working through my most authentic version of myself, I was able to realize the types of art I enjoy and wish to create. This coursework directly informed my writing and I can see it clearly even in my first few essays while at USC.

In the spring I chose to take a gender and sexuality class, a subject I have a lot of interest in but no true experience with other than existing as a gay man. Reading back my essays for this class, although still in an academic vein, they read much more linear and with greater continuity than that of my first year composition papers. I think this is largely due to the fact that the writing for this class didn’t exist to enforce process but instead acknowledged the value of engaging in a discourse that included my own personal interests through a critical lens. Even in a thesis driven essay about Mark Zuckerberg in the film The Social Network, my writing at this time employed a more story-telling-like tone, ultimately creating a dialogue which feels more open and resulting in a piece that much more interesting to read. 

Part 2: Zoom Out

I think one of the writings I’m most proud of since entering college, and honestly one of my all-time favorite pieces in general, is the work I submitted as my final project for the previously mentioned gender and sexuality course last spring. The essay is entitled Heart (WeHo’s Version). This was a fun one to title because to me the three words captured the essence of the piece and my voice within it perfectly. The title aims to depict the divide between my sense of heart (cliche, I know) and the pressure to conform to what I perceived as gay “norms” since moving to Los Angeles. A few of these norms being nightclubbing in West Hollywood, hookups, body image and diet culture, and a more performative lifestyle in general to name a few. Also, I think Taylor Swift had just dropped a new “(Taylor’s Version)” album so the title was a fun play on words as well. The paper served as a reflective moment in time analyzing my experiences as a gay man growing up in rural America and subsequently moving to LA and furthermore making sense of a life transition through conversation with feminist scholars and literature.

Although in response to theorists and material covered in that semester’s course, I’d like to think that my paper can reach beyond the scope of the class and is available to any LGBTQ+ persons or those interested in an introduction to feminist and queer theory. My gateway into this piece, in addition to being somewhat grounded in specific texts and arguments, was primarily fueled by my own lived experiences and is organized through a retelling of the many pivotal moments in my life thus far in regards to my sexuality. The language is casual yet vivid and it is sincere but also raw. The essay opens with a poem written by myself describing a night out at the West Hollywood nightclub “Heart” and the few epiphanies I had while dancing. The piece then returns back to my childhood and continues chronologically to the present day. 

Although prompted by a professor and created for the use of a class, the intention reads much different to me now. As I enjoy this writing again, so much life has happened but also so much is the same. As much as this piece was for that professor or for Adrienne Rich, one of the few feminists’ works I called on, this piece very much was and is for me in the sense that it is a love letter to that time in my life. In a way it pays homage to the young boy who dreamed of making a bigger city his home, and coming to the stark yet thankful realization that there is still much more life left to live on the other side of that hope. 

I don’t believe my writing exists to align with or even challenge the work of others, but instead aims to promote that sometimes there is no answer or framework to explain the many questions that may inevitably come up. When first starting to write Heart (WeHo’s Version), I was motivated to debunk the idea that gay people engage in certain behaviors to feel liberated and that this is something that actually should be celebrated because it meant agency and was a long time coming, or something. While at the time I couldn’t relate to that experience precisely, it doesn’t necessarily mean that particular frame of mind is wrong or that mine is right, but that both can exist simultaneously and still hold their own merit. 

Instead, what I hope for the takeaway is the ability and excitement to take ownership and pride in the individual journey; and the trust that when reality does not meet expectations it is something to be celebrated and an opportunity to ask more questions. Additionally, when a part of personal identity begins to feel like a flaw, I want my writing to encourage the reframing of it to be viewed as a strength and something that is irrevocably unique. In closing my final project, I touched on the idea of the “erotic” and how it is not exclusively sexual or pornagraphic but inversly lies in the power of our very own unrecognized and unexpressed feelings. The capacity to confront turbulence and fear regarding identity and personal ability is already innately within all of us. My goal for future writing is to continue to illuminate this strength in myself and others.