Lilac Colored Glasses

I graduated with my B.A. in psychology in five and a half years. Most psychology students can have a masters by then. Aside from that whole breakdown thing that began in year three and finally hit bottom in year five, there was also the fact that I had pretty much decided that I did not want to pursue psychology as a full time career. Going into my fourth year of college I had decided that I wanted to do what I had always excelled at and loved most of all: writing.
I started writing short stories when I was seven and discovered poetry in fifth grade when I was ten. Soon after I began producing increasing amounts of poems and was accepted to the Young Writers Institute of Pittsburgh the summer before sixth grade. It was a wonderful workshopping experience and I enjoyed it immensely. That was all the “formal” training I ever had in writing. I continued to enjoy writing poetry and stories for my English classes through highschool and wrote poetry obsessively through college. When I was in the worst of fugues I wrote my best poetry. I had been told by many and allowed myself to believe that it was just too difficult to make a living as a writer so I had never even considered pursuing it beyond a hobby or as a source of anxiety relief.
After I graduated I floated around in a bit of an occupational limbo. I worked as an in home caretaker for the elderly for a year, considered nursing school and then realized that I couldn’t handle losing patients very well (after two of my patients passed away, one from cancer and one from a heart attack). I accidentally fell into daycare in what was supposed to be a “placeholder” type job until I could figure out what I wanted to do with myself and working with the kids made me feel so good about life in general that I decided to do what I loved (besides working with the kids) and applied to Carlow College for the M.A. in creative writing.
The program was very new, but amazing, with concentrations in poetry, fiction or creative non fiction. It also allowed the opportunity to have one semester outside of your chosen concentration. The best part was (besides the fact that it was all doable from home which meant I could keep working too) that two weeks of each summer semester would be spent in Carlow Ireland studying with Irish writers! I spent hours and hours gathering and editing all of my poetry before choosing ten poems to submit with my application. I was so nervous. Everyone else applying would most likely have some sort of formal training and I had had none. Everything I had emotionally was fused into my poetry and a rejection of it would be like a rejection of my soul. After a month or two a letter arrived from Carlow telling me that I had been accepted to the program! I was amazed and elated. My dream of being a writer was beginning to become a reality.
So I went to Carlow and met some amazing, talented, wonderful people both as peers as well as professors. I wrote some haunting poetry and woke at 5 every morning to go out on the college grounds and listen to the birds singing and to write my heart out over the Irish landscape. And the mentor for poetry was Desmond Egan. Egan is a very renowned poet in Ireland and everyone was flattered to have him as a mentor…until we got to know him and decided he was a bit of an asshole. He always edited all of his own books and expected us to basically be editors as well. And me in particular he didn’t seem to get. I wrote a poem that basically said that I had a hard time always understanding why the Irish are still pissed about the potato famine when my people had been bullied and butchered for centuries. I ended the poem with references to wandering the desert and the Wailing Wall. Desmond loved the desert imagery but totally missed the whole Jewish thing. Desmond asked us to do a writing excercise, to be as descriptive as possible and then said my description was too descriptive. He intimidated me and my poetry didn’t seem to appeal much to him. He made things even more difficult by refusing to communicate with us or accept our writing via e-mail. We were to snail mail all inquiries and projects to him in Ireland from the U.S. (cause yeah I had the money to be printing and shipping a semesters worth of manuscripts overseas). We also had to buy three books, one of which was written by him, one edited and compiled by him, and a third with some of his works in it.

We were supposed to receive a first review from our mentor after we arrived back in Pittsburgh. When I got mine it basically said, though I can’t remember the exact wording, that “despite Korie’s lack of natural talent, she finds the beauty in the simple things.”
My mentor, the person who was supposed to be inspiring me to improve my writing said I had no natural talent. A professional poet who had many publications and knew how the world of writing worked said I had no natural talent. My eyes skated over the positive thing he said and kept falling back on those words.

No.
Natural.
Talent.

And that’s when the poetry died.

I dropped out of Carlow’s writing program, the one that I had been so proud to be a part of, the one that I had gotten into based on nothing but natural talent. I stopped writing altogether. Sometimes I wanted to try but I’d sit down at the computer and my mind would just be blank. Nothing felt right, the words I wrote were all hollow. That was almost four years ago and I think I have written maybe two poems since then.

My blogging actually sprung from the determination to have another go at being a writer. I thought that it would be a great way to keep my writing skills in tact while I went back to school (this time for early education), got myself a well paying job and finally ended up with some free time to research and write one of the books that I’ve had in mind for so long. Well, obviously I ended up leaving school again when I opted to move to Belgium before finishing my masters and it will be another several months before I know enough Dutch to start attending Gent University (3rd attempt at grad school and bascially all I was eligible to study here was, guess what, psychology).

I’m frustrated. I’m frustrated all the time by the fact that I still don’t have a masters and now even when I do it will be in a subject that I’m not particularly passionate for. I’m hoping I can apply it to a career working with children somehow and then I can finally begin to do what I truly want with my free time and begin writing something publishable.

And I’ll pick a copy and write a little message in the liner and send it off to County Kildare, straight to the mailbox of Desmond Egan.

It seems that you underestimated me. I must have some natural talent after all.

This is in response to the Weekend Wandering at Author Blog