When you’re a writer, you put yourself into others’ shoes. You learn of kingdoms and peoples long dead, vibrant cultures and political thoughts. You see the good and evil for what it is: human nature. You become philosophical, scientific, and spiritual. However narcissistic you may be, your selfishness begins to wane as you look at the lives of others. You see the way they live and feel their happiness and pain, and you know them, you connect with them. When you’re a writer, you don’t have time to think only of yourself. You think of those who inspire you; you think of the people who become the basis of your stories. You put yourself in their shoes and see the world the way they do, and you can’t forget how they made you feel.

It’s very strange to me to find the writing accounts of the people I know. To know that we’re on the same websites and praying that we never find each other in the virtual world.

[x] Just thought anyone who doesn’t know about this should. Personally, I’m miffed.

I would like to clarify that this blog is not going to only consist of links, tips, and articles. I have made some headway in the personal opinion department, but I would also like to post more original content either in the form of reviews, photos (not of me, of course), or written pieces. Maybe some tidbits from my daily life?

Just wanted to let you know now that it won’t always be a collection of advice, and I hope you’re okay with that.

Since this blog is titled “secret diary” I thought it’d be nice to post some personal experiences with literature and writing. This week was Literary week on campus, and although I was only capable of attending one lecture, I did get a chance to attend the closing session of Faculty and Student readings.

The first half was set for the faculty which was all poetry (I’m not sure why there were no short stories read). One guy read a poem he wrote about Aquaman and how he is regarded as useless in the comic book/superhero culture, and it was hilarious. He referenced Wonder Woman buying push-ups, speculated on Batman’s and Robin’s relationship, and joked about the women involved with Flash not really having much of a sexual encounter. It was perfect and by far my favorite poem read.

I wasn’t interested as much in the rest of the faculty readings. My instructor did read part of what I assume is the novel she’s working on, and I would very much like to read the entire story once it’s finished.

Most of the student readings were members of my creative writing class, and most of the poems they read were pieces I had already heard, though some had been tweaked by critique. I really love most of my class members. They are a bunch of talented writers with incredible imaginations. There were originally supposed to be about ten students reading, but a few didn’t show up and the host asked for members of the audience to go up if they had anything they would like to read.

An interesting observation I made while in attendance was that only one of the faculty members was female, and only two of the student readers were female until the host asked for audience members to step up. I told my mom about this and she said she was surprised that there weren’t that many female writers presenting, especially considering everyone read poetry. I had to disagree with her. As someone who has taken a keen interest in being a published author, I’ve done my homework. Although there are quite a few pronounced female authors in classic literature (Austen, Shelley, the Brontes) many more still hid behind male pseudonyms, and many women still do so. P.D. James, S.E. Hinton, L.J. Smith, even the use of initials seems more masculine when the initials stand for Phyllis Dorothy, Susan Eloise, or Lisa Jane.

And we can’t forget that J.K. Rowling was instructed on the format of her publishing name in order to attract male readers because little boys would never be interested in a female writer’s work because she’s female.