Updated Literacy Essay

As this semester and this calendar year both draw to a close, I feel as if I've never been better poised to tackle a work of literature and think critically about it, or to tackle the tangled web of potential subject matter in my own head and sort it out into a cohesive statement which will carry to it a ring of truth. This class, the training I have received in it, and the literature I have read in it are no doubt invaluable in guiding me to better understanding of how to achieve those ends. Studying Elizabeth Bishop, specifically, more closely than I had when previously being introduced to her work was very much an enriching experience — delving deeper into Bishop's oeuvre served to remind me how truly great poets inspire me to write fiction (or to write anything, for that matter) more than the majority of prose writers do.

Having come through this class as a rite of passage for those on track to obtain a degree in English, I can say with confidence that there is no other field of study to which I would rather devote my time and energy. Great literature in any form captivates me, drives me to ingest it fully, to revel in it, to go and do likewise, so to speak. My strongest desire is to write until something comes out indelible, and will outlive me and mean something beyond the chronological and geographical boundaries of my own life. And to that end I will continue to document, in one form or another, my observations (imaginary or otherwise), my thoughts about the world and where I am situated in it. This does not, however, mean writing only about myself and my surroundings—though, I will say, I see little use in the largely escapist fantasy of writing about any world in which I could not, by some comparison or reasonable abstraction, imagine myself existing. This robs the art of the sense of communicative identification which, to me, is vital to any great work.

In summing up, I don't know that I was born to do anything, exactly, but I do know that writing is what I am living to do.