CREATIVE WRITING

at the Ruth Asawa School of the Arts in San Francisco

Welcome! CW develops the art and craft of creative writing through instruction, collaboration, and respect. This blog showcases STUDENT WRITING and how to APPLY to Creative Writing.

  • Congratulations to Maya Litauer (’15) for her publication in the About Place Journal:

    Visceral

    I am a soft body,
    wrap me in your glowing shroud
    and watch me sing.
    Bathe me in your salty sweat
    as we fade into the forest
    of skin.
    Our edges are sunset,
    out roots and our branches
    connect what we see.
    Lather me into
    your dry cracks
    and watch me come to life.
    Close your eyes and graze
    my tips with yours –
    my bark is marked
    with longings.
    We have eyes,
    in our leaves,
    we know what warmth is –
    take some from my
    roots and bury it in your
    folds.

  • by Mykel (’14)

    There’s a feeling I like to call “end of the year nihilism,” and it’s pretty much exactly what it sounds like. For someone as lazy and evasive as yours truly, heaps of final projects and tests often result in what the experts like to call a “fuck-it-all coma.”

    I’m trying to avoid that scary place in my brain this year. And you know what’s really helping out with that right now? Our awesome artist in residence, Sarah Fontaine.

    Oh yes, this is one of those posts.

    Her combination of flexibility and structure, experimentation and “engagement with discipline” reminds me how meaningful school can be. I am personally having a great time with the genre-bending texts she has us reading, but our unit gives me more than texts to think about. It reminds me what a huge privilege it is to spend all my days learning. In other words, even if some of my experience with school is annoying and uncomfortable, it’s still not “a dog and pony show.” (Sarah Fontaine’s words.) It still has things to offer me.

    Just because Creative Writing is in the middle of a really cool unit doesn’t mean that school is fun all of a sudden. But doing things like listening to an entire album without distractions, holding silent conversations, and reading confusing literature make me more willing to sit through things that may be boring or uncomfortable. And more than that, the kinds of homework we are being assigned remind me to be more open to what my “boring” experiences have to offer me.

  • Shanna, a senior in the Creative Writing Department,  will be going to University of Puget Sound in Tacoma, Washington next year – figuring out what she wants to do with the rest of her life while simultaneously trying not to drown in all the rain. After that, who knows what she’ll be doing. She’d like to move around and go abroad at some point. But at the ripe age of 18, she’s just gonna wherever the wind takes her.

    Shanna

  • I’m sure many of you wonder what the near future holds for the current Creative Writing Seniors. Well, here is a little blurb about Hazel’s plans.

    Next year, Hazel Mankin will be attending UC Santa Cruz, where she expects to study writing and literature. However, she is also excited to expand her knowledge of mechanical engineering, world history, architecture, hand-to-hand combat, and cooking. She’s excited to move forward and see where life takes her.
    Picture 34

  • by Lizzie  (’14)

    When we think of the people of this world, we picture them clothed, all their subtle ridges and proportions masked. One could argue that clothing is a vital armor of day-to-day life and one could also argue that the coverage of the human body is directly correlated to the insecurities we hold toward our image. Yes, clothing protects us from the cold and the brutalities of the weather, but what about when clothes are not necessary? More often than not, clothing is used to smother our self-consciousness, hiding what we’re uncomfortable with—but what if we did not have that defense mechanism? What if clothing was not only optional but useless?

    Everyone in the world has something they wish they could change about themselves, and that something tends to be physical. For example, if someone is not pleased with the appearance of his midsection he is able to cover it up with flowing or bulky shirts. He is insecure because he is afraid of what people might think if they saw it. However, if nudity was the norm, he would have nothing to hide; his body fully exposed lifts the veil of secrecy.

    Not only would nudism diminish physical insecurities, it would also dampen the separation between the rich and the poor. “They buy me all these ices. Dolce & Gabbana, Fendi and that Donna Karan, they be sharin’, all their money got me wearin’ fly,” sings Fergie in the famous Black Eyed Peas song, “My Humps.” The clothing brands mentioned in the lyrics are notoriously expensive. A fan of the Black Eyed Peas may listen to the song and find herself desiring the brands Fergie mentions but she may not have the money to spend on such frivolous investments. This digs a deeper trench between the rich and the poor. Without clothing, that trench between the affluent and the less wealthy would be shallower and easier to pass through, thus creating a more united society.

    If society came to the point of simply viewing humans as naked, in their natural state, physical insecurities would be dissolved and class alienation would be less definitive. So when hip-hop artist, Nelly, sang, “Take off all your clothes,” in his smash hit, “Hot in Here,” he was not only making a statement about the heat but also about how to subside many people’s irrational and unnecessary insecurities.

    IMG_1437

  • by Shanna (’13)

    i didn’t eat for 3 days and 3
    stupid
    boys
    told me i looked skinny enough
    to toss in a bed
    and i broke 3 nails
    punching them out

    you’re scared of me because i
    curse like it’s my first language and
    i act like i’m 6’2
    even though i don’t wear
    high heels cause they
    make me feel inferior
    to you
    and your dirty sneakers

    i’m good at telling the truth
    like
    my english teacher won’t know
    what the fuck to do with my poetry
    cause it’s gnarly, messy
    unrhymed and i probably mention
    something inappropriate
    like that time you
    told me you think about me naked
    when you close your eyes
    in the shower

    when you try to kiss me i’ll probably
    ask you if i look like your ex
    i’m good at that
    awkward small talk
    bumping hands like
    my limbs are
    little accidents

    i understand if you wanna pick
    another blonde
    with longer legs and bluer eyes
    with a cleaner mouth, better breath
    i’m a little used
    and i still have scars
    and discolorations
    up and down my
    body
    from the bites
    and brush strokes
    of everyone
    before you
    who told me
    i was perfect
    till i wasn’t

    i have a problem
    with the way you
    make eye contact
    like it’s delicate
    instinctive
    and i hate the way you
    get so close to my face
    like you’re trying to find
    out what i had for lunch
    like you’re trying to
    crawl into my mouth
    again

    i wrote your name on my notebooks
    and the insides of my fingers
    the kind of ink that smears when you lick it
    the kind that gets on your neck
    when i pull you forward
    yanking out your molars
    with my tongue
    and i don’t want to be around me
    when i’m in a bad mood
    either

    there are parts of
    my body
    you’ll only see in
    a textbook
    and i’m sorry for
    all the creepy glances
    at the bus stop
    but i don’t like handshakes
    and i don’t want your hugs

    i didn’t eat for 3 days
    and you told me i
    was just your type

  • by Molly (’15)

    As all of you have no doubt heard, Abigail has stepped down from her duties as Closet Queen. I, as her successor, would like to thank the public for electing me to this vital role in Creative Writing society.

    Those of you who are familiar with Closet Queen duties know how highly sought-after this position is. It is an indescribable pleasure to scurry across the hallways, providing utensils for people’s birthdays. The joy I get from opening the door to the Creative Writing closet down the hallway with my very own key is worth the incredible responsibilities this job brings. I know that if I were to ever lose the key, my pride and sense of worth would be lost right with it; therefore, to be extra careful with the public’s trust in my abilities, I keep the keys in a locked box in another locked box in a locker, which is fortified on both the inside and the outside with stainless steel.

    I assure you all that I will meet my duties with as much care as Abigail did. Although we will all miss sending her off to retrieve the cake knives and ice-cream spoons, her time as Closet Queen has come to an end, as all things do. As a junior, she was much too old for the job, which is better-suited for a wry and supple sophomore such as me. Although my time in office will also come to an end eventually, I am looking forward to a long and eventful career as Creative Writing’s loyal Closet Queen, and once again thank you all for selecting me.

  • Lately I’ve been pondering war. They’re political, they hurt like hell to think about– I’ve carried this morbid fascination with the topic since Modern World last year. That’s probably where this got started, learning about World War One and reading All Quiet On The Western Front. WWI was the last of the Romantic wars, trench warfare the disillusionment, the mass murder of innocence and honor. I have a book of WWI poetry sitting on my desk:

    When you see millions of the mouthless dead
    Across your dreams in pale battalions go,
    Say not soft things as other men have said,
    That you’ll remember. For you need not so.
    Give them not praise. For, deaf, how should they know
    it is not curses heaped on each gashed head?
    Nor tears. Their blind eyes see not your tears flow.
    Nor honour. It is easy to be dead.
    Say only this, ‘They are dead.’ Then add thereto,
    ‘Yet many a better one has died before.’
    Then, scanning all the o’ercrowded mass, should you
    perceive one face that you loved heretofore,
    it is a spoke. None wears the face you knew.
    Great death has made all his for evermore.

    –Charles Hamilton Sorley

    –and that’s just one poem. This is the consequence of dividing soldiers in war from a bigger political agenda, I think, when even the people know not what they are fighting for. We see this again in Korea, in Vietnam, in Iraq. Why do we fight?

    But that’s a digression– I’d like to focus on the act of war itself, fighting on a battlefield, fighting for your life. Today we hear about PTSD, flashbacks, blackout episodes in veterans, how they are unable to reintegrate into civilization. We don’t hear about that happening after World War Two, it was more of a post-Korea thing. Post-Vietnam thing. Apocalypse Now, Mr. Kurtz and the horror the horror, that was the first Art&Film movie I walked away from shaking and sobbing in fear and distress. Line that up side by side with Paul from All Quiet, the soldier he killed in a trench, and we see a theme. These men aren’t fighting for a greater cause, they’re fighting for their lives. They’re fighting to survive in a situation the Great Civilization dumped them in, and they’re coming out– fast as new cars in an assembly line– disappointed. Disillusioned– the great lie of politics and society, we make it so much more than it actually is, Governor Smoke and President Mirrors. This is the type of hopelessness that spreads, a pervasive undercurrent of thought already worming through the American consciousness, the great distrust in power. Watergate just made it official.

    Bringing it back home, I’ve found a similar morbid fascination with Absurdist writings– maybe it’s related, maybe it’s not. All I know is I get the same big swallow in my throat, breathing hard the wrong way down my esophagus so my stomach gets bloated on emptiness. Let’s go. We can’t. Why not? We’re waiting for Godot. Ah! This hilarious sadness for something we’ve blown way out of proportions, we care so deeply for and mourn its lost– it’s ridiculous. It’s absurd. Civilization is a method for bookkeeping, its entire purpose to ordain and streamline modes of interaction between humans, and we’ve let the plaque build up in guise of Romanticism. We’re festering. We’re self-destructing. What the hell, hero, America, you weren’t supposed to let these ideals get out of hand. You weren’t supposed to idly stand by and believe anything with a federal stamp of approval over it. How little we want to care, it’s crass. It’s utterly, completely absurd.

  • by Mykel (’14)

    I’ve always been an obsessive person. I move through intense phases where I read everything I can on a particular subject. I cycle through periods of enthusiasm: eras of history, TV shows, foods, philosophies, and musicians have all had their turn in the spotlight…

    I always have the urge to share my excitement with other people, which I’m sure gets seriously annoying, because it usually ends up with me rolling around on the CW carpet and saying “Midoooriiii! It’s sooo cooooolll.”

    Anyways, my most recent obsession is fermentation! (It’s so cool!) I love seeing bacteria at work in such a concrete way. Letting certain kinds of bacteria do their thing on dairy, fruits, and vegetables actually increases their digestability and nutritional value. Plus the stuff is fun to make and super tasty. I like how it makes me think about all the beneficial microbes humans live with in symbiotic relationships. And how human bodies are superorganisms.

    So far, I’ve made my own yogurt/yogurt cheese. With the whey (excess fluid you get when you strain yogurt or cheese), I’m going to make my own fermented apple chutney! Then maybe I’ll move on to beets and carrots. Mmmm. Microbes.

  • by Hazel (’13)

    It seems that kids are supposed to know what they want to do with their lives at younger and younger ages. Anyone who is in school right now (and possibly others, though I can’t speak for them) will probably know what I’m talking about. The thing is, it’s so accepted that it’s not one of those things people complain about as they congregate around their lockers between classes; it’s just an accepted source of stress.

    Considering the specialized nature of SOTA, there actually are a lot of people who have a pretty solid sense of what they want to do in college, if not for the rest of their lives. It’s admirable, it’s impressive, and I wish those people the best of luck in pursuing what they love. And yet, the proportion of people who seem confident in their plans for the future strikes me as implausible. Can all these people really know themselves that well? The very thought of it baffles me.

    Like many people in high school, I usually try to blend in, and when I see someone else doing something I like, I try to do it too. So, because I perceive other people my age as having concrete goals that are relevant to the rest of their lives, well, I want them too. So I’ve started making these big, declarative statements.

    “I’m going to get a low-paying job to support myself while I write books!”

    “I just want to own a bakery!”

    “I’m going to go to trade school and become a mechanic!”

    All of these things sound nice. But goodness gracious, I am only seventeen years old and I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I say things like this because everyone else seems so confident and that scares me. But I have to be honest with myself and with everyone else. So here’s the new statement:

    I don’t know what I want to do with my life, but I know what interests me. I’m going to go to college, try out lots of things, and eventually find that one thing I could do for the rest of my life. As much pressure as there is to decide right now what my future career will be, I refuse to choose, because I would only be lying to everyone present.

    This is why, after months of consideration, I am planning on going to college next year. I always assumed I would, but after talking to classmates with different plans or at least concerns, I became less sure. No one system will fit every person’s needs. But one thing I know is that I love learning, and while there’s a lot I can learn wherever I end up, there are things that I probably could not teach myself, so I’m going to go find some folks who can. And one day, it will all come together and I’ll know what I want to do. But there’s no good reason to rush.