Throughout my entire university experience studying journalism and creative writing the one thing I hated more than food in the canteen were workshops. That’s because I’m nit a fan of writing narratives or short stories. I don’t do fiction or thrillers. I write poetry. A lot of poetry actually. And I ended up with a lovely group of people who didn’t really give a toss about poetry. I have tried writing short stories and failed miserably. I simply don’t enjoy writing those, which is quite peculiar because I do like writing articles. Not only I spent past three years writing poetry but during the second year I discovered visual poetry. As much as I was excited to embark on a wild ride filled with visuals and words I quickly realised how alone in that ride I was. I was already writing about tough or uncomfortable subjects but now my poetry was not only weird and hard to understand by my narrative-focused group because of the subject but also because of the form. I will never forget one of the last workshops after which I read the feedback from the class and it turned out that the three poems about bulimia sounded more like a one night stand description to one of my colleagues. Then there came self-doubt. Maybe I’m not as good in writing as my tutor tells me? Maybe I should quit writing altogether? So I decided to have a break. For a week. Then the week turned into a month and then I started missing writing. I didn’t feel like myself during that month. But even the thought of picking up a pen was quite terrifying.
Doing something different that the rest of the people you spend your time with might seem quite scary at first. I though about giving up writing at least five times per term but I never managed to go through with it. After the first year of uni I thought about dropping out and never looking back. Now here I am holding my very own first poetry collection, which I aim to get published. Here I am knowing that maybe I won’t make a living out of writing poems but I will never stop doing that.