What started on digital paper as a single post about my journey through writing programs morphed into a trilogy. In Writer’s Craft Wissenschaft - Part 1, I introduced the world and set the scenario. Writer’s Craft Wissenschaft - Part 2 was the dark chapter; the stakes were raised, and the readers were left wondering how the protagonist would get out by the end. And now we have reached the third entry. The epic conclusion. Sometimes, these are the hardest to pull off. There’s a delicate dance of wrapping up the story, putting a bow on the themes, and giving the audience a satisfying/well-earned ending. Will I achieve it, or will [Lockjaw Fletcher], thought to be long gone, appear in a dark catacomb to tell me he’s my grandfather and title the post, ‘Doesn’t work.’
The Lesson
To honour [Lockjaw Fletcher], I’ll spend the rest of this post speaking to you in second-person, the “right” way. Reader, you may ask, “Should I do a post-secondary program in creative writing?”
The answer is yes and no. It comes down to figuring out what you’re trying to learn, what you want to accomplish. Write short stories, poems, or scripts and figure out what you like. Ask yourself what you’re trying to do. If you try your hardest, and you come up with nothing but a blank page, or if you rack your brain so hard you come up with your fingertips coated in bloody pink chunks, but no answers, then I’d say going straight into a course or a program right away. Everyone works differently, and some people need more guidance than others.
Otherwise, take the time to discover yourself. Just write from the gut, not preoccupied by rules. Be sloppy, take risks, throw whatever comes to mind at your work, and when the dust settles, look at the mess you’ve created. Once you’ve gotten that out of your system, the real work begins.
This is where you can start seeing what’s out there. Complete an independent wissenschaft. There are tons of books and free resources to teach you about the essentials of writing: voice, structure, character, pacing, clarity, and the art of revision. Even more important: read and consume other author’s work. Read who you want to be like, read who you don’t want to be like. Read fiction, and read lots of non-fiction. Try different types of books.
Every genre, even those you think you’ll never touch, has something to teach. Horror shows you how to build tension and atmosphere. Romance teaches emotional timing and how to create chemistry between characters. Mystery helps you understand the release of information and how to hold attention. Science fiction is invaluable for learning how to build convincing worlds and maintain internal logic. Comedy, though often overlooked, teaches rhythm, contrast, and the importance of surprise.
The Wasp Factory, for example, is not sci-fi, yet the world feels as carefully constructed as one. The protagonist’s isolated internal logic and detailed rituals have the same immersive quality found in speculative fiction. It is no accident that Iain Banks (as Iain M. Banks) also wrote science fiction. What he learned in one genre deepened his work in another.
At the end of the day, every creative piece of writing you produce is a learning experience; you are learning how to write that novel, that poem, that screenplay. Every story demands something different from you, and what worked last time will rarely work again.
From that point, if you still need one, a writing program can be beneficial. Their greatest perks are having accountability and beta testing your ideas. While no one should ever tell you there’s a concrete way to do things right, getting feedback will help you know how things come across. Even if someone clearly isn’t your audience, it helps you to perhaps see a way to seek clarity for someone who’s not in on it with you. If you do decide to pursue it, look into how they’re conducted.
Whether it’s undergrad, a Master’s program, or a seminar in your neighbour’s garage, the value comes down to the style and structure of the program and the instructors involved. Some offer workshops where you sit with other students and critique each other’s work. While some offer one-on-ones with advisors. Figure out what you like. In university, I did a creative writing course where a circle of peers gave each other input. The benefit of that is the diversity of opinion and work you’re exposed to. The downside is the lack of experience reflected in their feedback and in their writing. But overall, the sense of community, even to a lonewolf like myself, is something to appreciate.
In the end, progress in writing is not about mastery. It is about curiosity. Every book, every failure, every small success teaches you something new about your own mind.
Hopefully, this has all been helpful. Moving forward, I’ll talk more about writing and topics around it. But I also want to make topical posts from time to time that may tangentially be related. I’ll be trying that with the next one.