Theory Of Writing

Impactful, expressive, emotive, personal, difference making, unfortunate, inadequate, unable, illegible. These are things I personal associate with writing. Like the order of the words, my view of writing is ever changing. Writing for me was a sense of escapism. As an only child who lived with my mother, I had to find many interesting ways to occupy myself. Writing stories that had no bearing. The idea that whatever that I put on paper can be imagined and reimagined into various forms fuelled my interest greatly. I had not only written fantasy-esc stories but also comics. I had a comic series back in second grade that I used to share with my classmates. Most comics were influenced by events of the day. Whether I got in trouble with the teacher, which was quite often, or something funny occurred with a classmate, I made the most mundane of things seem somewhat exiting. Seeing the chuckles and downright hatred for some of my comics enticed me to make even better and cleverer instalments. At the time I didn’t really have a set technique in my writing. It was more of on the whim or simply if I was bored. In between classes amidst the chatter and boisterous environment somehow gave me my clearest sense of writing my pieces.
My mischievous youth helped in my writing as I made slights at my teacher and a few classmates via the comics. Envisioning my teacher as this overbearing, totalitarian figure allowed for easy flow of my thoughts. This was my first true feelings of self-expression. The knowledge that what I wrote had some impact, temporary or otherwise, on my friends made my drive for excellence even better. Excellence not in the sense of getting more readers, but in connecting with the ones I already had. Although I had horrible penmanship, and arguable still do, I tried to make transitions between scenes and the drawing itself way better. Refinement became an instrumental part of the whole comic making experience. As the year went on, not only did it improve the comics, but also my schoolwork. Writing exercises, which I only did the bare minimum, became things I aimed for perfection. Things which I lost marks on in class, I now strived to find out the reason and see if I can prevent that from happening into the future. This had trickling effects as I moved up from a mid-placing student to a top achiever. The comic even spread to outside the class and being talked about outside the grade. At its apex, I remember holding competitions to see which comic could be placed into my comic strip. This is what I see as the peak of my fondness with writing and it allowed for the creativity and innocence of my pre-pubescent brain to flow. I have told this extract of my life to highlight that I believe the theory of writing can only really be a theory. The everchanging dynamic on how we write, and view of writing allows for new and individual experiences. My theory of that time was one of wonder, one of living up to expectations. I wanted not to write for myself but for others. When I didn’t see writing as a chore but an extension to myself. Waking up every morning knowing that you had to bring something new but had the faith in always brining forth that expectation. The feeling of happiness to finish the work early so you can write a few extra panels before the next class. All of this allowed me to be very expressive to the point of annoyance at times. That expressiveness was the downfall for my later years.
In fifth grade I went into a streamed class. Streaming was a method at my school to put the students who were academically aligned into the same class. Seeing that I was excelling at the time, I went into the one with other students who were also excelling. The work was more, so I had less time to work on the comic. Even with few comics being released, I enjoyed being able to do the little I could. My teacher didn’t like the idea of me making comics. She essentially forced me to give it up as she claimed it was a disruption to the class. I believed she had a vendetta against me since every single day I was sent out of class because of disruptive behaviour. I didn’t mind being sent out the class that much, however taking away my comics hurt me more than any punishment would. This kind of put a damper to my creative prospects. I still wrote but I no longer really gave it out to my class. My friends still got a view but my hunger for greatness was no longer there. Thankfully, my schoolwork didn’t fall but my writing did. I lost the drive to consistently write, consistently better myself, consistently express myself. I eventually morphed my understanding and emotions towards writing to one of apathy. Slowly it turned to only writing when needed and doing only as much as it required. The factor of procrastination slowly seeped into my writing craft. This not only slowed down how much I wanted to write, it also slowed how much I read.
Reading was an extension of my being as it was fuel to my comics. Inspirations taken from these various genres further increased the enjoyment of the comics as well as increased my vocabulary. The lack of inspiration was a side effect to the lack of comic writing. Now by grade 6 and 7 my writing was very mechanical. Nothing really in that field interest me again. My nature of expressiveness and open-minded thought was no more. My teacher drilled into me that my talkative nature was not helpful and only a distraction to my classmates. How it was unfair for me to get good grades but limit the progress of my peers. These things seeped into my frame and was the casting iron to my early high school life. The theory of my writing is one of necessity. One writing for the sake of writing is one that has time to spare. Everything that touch that paper had a purpose and all things said should be towards that goal. Granted it still kind of worked out for me but that was the mindset to slowly craft me into quite the introverted person. Now writing this I can see how much connections writing has had on my life whether directly or indirectly. This lack of being out there and lack of desiring much made my aspirations out of school take a hit. Back in my primary school I was captain of both my football and cricket team. Not only because of skill, but how I could rally my teammates to do things that they themselves may not know was possible. Being in high school then, I couldn’t even rally myself, so the additive qualities was no longer making me stand out from the average. This all changed then I was introduced to people who would still be in my friend group. At first, these people only crowded around me because I was good at certain subjects. But the more I spoke with them the greater we realized how much in common we had. Opening was no longer an issue and I could step out of my figurative box and freely carry out myself. With the added freedom I was back to being slightly disruptive in class, however with me being conscious of the situation I knew how to handle myself and not be a burden to people. I no longer had any aspirations to remake a comic as I thought I outgrown it, so I joined the drama club. I joined it not really as a way to perform to people and to get far as an actor, but as an avenue to put up that before thought to be gone creativity. I did end up learning a few poems and crafting a few of my own. My aunt was so moved she even allowed me to perform it at her wedding.
My theory of writing moved from the one of necessity to one of freedom. Freedom in the sense that you no longer had an audience expecting weekly instalments of an issue, but you also had the drive to do whatever you wanted. I no longer was tied down to the aspect of “being a troublemaker”. I just enjoyed doing it for myself, and if other persons liked it so be it. The idea of practicing and trying to perfect my craft Infront of a mirror didn’t bore me. I enjoyed going over each line seeing which could be improved or the optimal way of doing it. Even after I stopped doing drama, I liked the idea of public speaking and doing something that I found enjoyable. Being described as loquacious was one of the few back handed compliments I received from teachers. Not only talking but arguing my points. One thing that I kept with me from my years of primary school was the idea of being openminded. I could take what people said, see their side of the argument and either agree to disagree or point out exactly where it was flawed. This was an amazing aspect among friends as it vastly amplified my ability to ‘style’ one of them. ‘Styling’ can be classified as a slight or a funny joke at the expense of another person. The way I could manipulate an argument allowed me to be very successful in delivering a off colour insult. This ‘Styling’ as well as how I carried myself in actual discussions made teachers recommend me to join the debating club. And that is where I currently am with my view of writing.
Debating allowed me to investigate things I had no idea about and find points and counter points to argue on. I joined the debating club in 9th grade with no aspiration to represent the school. W e had meetings which we learned new words and learned the various methods to carry oneself during a debate. I was horrible at the impromptu debates. I found it funny how I was good in reciting things I read for hours and good and debating my friends, but horrible on arguing on a point to someone I’m not familiar with. After a few years at the club, with continuous practice I was able to speak freely on whatever to whoever. To the point of representing my school. This current facet of my life is one I’m content with. Seeing how my writing is pretty much directly related to my emotional and mental state over the time, I believe by no means would this be my last one. This one theory of writing is one of structure. Structure in a weird free and controlled way. Being able to do what I want along a guideline. I’m most comfortable with this aspect as I can have an outline and goal of whatever I want to do or write about. This allowed me to elevate what level of writing I had previously and taken aspects from years ago and make them more personal.