How Earning a Creative Writing Degree Almost Killed My Passion for Writing—And What Saved Me
Ever wonder if the real aha moments in education come not from what we cram into our brains but from what we choose to toss aside? That pile of notebooks, the “boring” critiques, the painstaking deadlines — sometimes the biggest lessons hide in the rubble of what we abandon. Getting a Bachelor’s in Creative Writing, I thought I was signing up for a grand love affair with words and craft. Turns out, I wrestled not just with syntax and stories, but with losing my own writing spark along the way. There’s a curious irony here: surrounded by dreamers who live for the written word, yet battling my own dwindling desire to write… early adulthood really knows how to stir the pot. But here’s the kicker — despite the experience being a mixed bag, I didn’t walk away empty-handed. The real education, I’ve found, was less about the prescribed lessons and more about what I deliberately left behind. Intrigued? Dive into this honest, reflective journey — where writing proves it’s a verb, not a badge to wear. LEARN MORE
The Short Of It
The real education came from what I chose to leave behind
I’ve written before about getting a Bachelors of Creative Writing, a venture I have mixed feelings about in hindsight. For the pros, the college experience itself was a very important part of my life and I am staunch defender of the Humanities and the Arts. And it wasn’t like the choice for me was between creative writing and computer science. It was always going to be one of those so-called “useless degrees.” (Never mind that entertainment is one of of the USA’s biggest exports and what it that done by… gasp, artists.)
But the cons… I lost a lot of my writing passion, voice, and even desire to write through the course of getting that degree. I really struggled with writing in my post-college early-to-mid 20s. Maybe I would have struggled one way or the other. Early-to-mid twenties just be like that, a mire of insecurity and emotional turmoil as you try to figure what you want to do as a career, who you are as a person, and unpacking that childhood baggage all at the same time.
But at the fulcrum of these two, the pros and cons, what I can’t say is that I didn’t learn anything… just maybe not the lessons they were trying to teach me in the curriculum.
Writing is a verb
On one hand, being surrounded by an entire major filled with young, hopeful students who were all obsessed with the same thing you are passionate about — especially when that thing was sometimes considered nerdy or not cool in high school — was a special thing to have. We were a community (at least at times). You’re not all there because you are coworkers paid to be there. Not because you are related by blood. Or not even because you are friends, although many of us turned out to be. You were there for a shared purposed and it made you part of the same team.
But is also became quite clear there were folks who were obsessed with the aesthetics of being a writer. Liking, or at least giving the lip serve to liking, the right sort of authors. Wearing the right sort of boho or hipster clothes (or was the trend when I was in undergrad). Or treating drinking (or…
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