I'm writing fiction now
and going to grad school (!!!)
I remember exactly where I was when I decided I wanted to write. At least, I remember where I was the first time I said it out loud.
It was two years ago. I was with Adam in Paris. I had not been out of the country until then. I had yet to experience the stereotypical Sagittarian obsession with travel. But I was starting to understand that, at least for me, it’s less about the act of traveling itself, and more about what traveling unlocks for me: A change of pace. Freedom from the day-to-day responsibilities of what to eat for breakfast and dishes and laundry. A chance to think about the what-ifs.
We were crossing a busy street. I was talking fast and nervously, the way I do when I’m afraid that nothing I’m saying is making any sense. I said outloud that I wanted to start taking writing seriously.
It was vague at the time, in a different way than it is now. I was under the impression still, that “writing” for me, meant writing non-fiction. I started researching my favorite writers, what schools they’d gone to, what publications they worked at, interviews on how they’d “made it.” I, sheepishly, began looking into MFA programs, and quickly realized that very few non-fiction MFAs are funded.
I tried writing about myself. Which, I figured, shouldn’t be hard because I’d done it a lot. I kept hitting a wall. I began to get the feeling that maybe my life just wasn’t exciting enough to write about. Or maybe, I just hadn’t lived enough to write about it yet.
I picked up an old pilot I’d started working on during the earlier years of COVID. For months, I woke up everyday, and worked on storyboards and character bios and outlines. Sometimes I even wrote pages (lol). I applied for a comedy writing residency and got in. For a week, I worked on the pilot in rural Pennsylvania, just to realize that I didn’t care about the story anymore. At the time, I thought maybe the story was just too close to home. But now, I realize it wasn’t an issue of the story being too true. I was outgrowing the version of myself that story was true to.
I didn’t write that summer at all. But I was still, researching MFA programs, secretly. This time, I was looking into programs for fiction. I told Adam I was thinking about applying for programs in the fall. I told him not to tell anyone, probably because I still wanted a way out of in case I decided to change my mind. At the end of the summer, we went to the beach with
and Nassir. I went to the bathroom, and when I came back Adam looked at me apologetically and said, “I told them.” Before I could get mad, Nicole told me about a program in New York that I should look into. It was at Hunter College. All the classes were at night, so students were able to keep their jobs. And it was free.The application required a 20-25 page short story. I started writing. Every week on Friday mornings, Aparna, Nicole and I began meeting virtually to workshop our writing together. I shared drafts of my story, they gave feedback, and in January, I submitted my application.
On a random Friday in March, a day before I moved in with Adam, I got a call from the head of the program. They offered me a place in the fall class.
Writing fiction has felt like returning to my childhood and teenage self. After all, fiction is how I came to be a writer in the first place. On a shelf near my desk, I keep a spiral bound notebook that contains a story I wrote in high school. Whenever I’m in need of a bit of inspiration, I pull the notebook down from the shelf and flip through its pages. It’s a reminder that the ability to create stories has always been in me.
Writing fiction has also been teaching me the value in working on a project long term. There’s a pleasure in getting acquainted with characters, watching how a story unfolds, observing what spills out from an unconscious place. In a lot of ways, I’m still figuring out my style of fiction writing. I’m learning, through trial and error, what I’m interested in writing about, what the act of writing fiction does for me. All of which I’m excited to explore more at Hunter this fall.
I’m constantly unsure about how much to invest in this newsletter. There are a little over 3K of you now (?!) and sometimes, I feel like I should be ~using my platform~ more (lol). But then, I remember that I started this newsletter as a way to start writing more, and I am in fact doing that. So…a win is a win?
All that to say, I’m still writing, and I hope you guys are too. And also, thank you for being here.
Reading Recs:
Self-plugging two interviews I did for The Creative Independent with
and . I spoke with both of them about writing fiction (lots of the questions I asked were for myself heh), amongst other things:
On balancing art-making and community activism
“I’m accepting of the fact that I’m an immigrant child of immigrants and for me it took ten-plus years of practicing and introspection and waiting until the label felt true to myself. To anyone reading this: if you write, you’re a writer, and I’m rooting for you.” – Sarah Thankam Mathews
On conversations with friends as a source of inspiration
“I have millions of conversations with all of my friends all the time. That’s such a huge part of my process, having those extended conversations with the women in my life. I feel like that’s always been so imperative.” – Marlowe Granados
My writing group, mentioned earlier, has been such a source of creative inspiration as well as genuine friendship. Nicole’s recent Substack post about her parents’ wedding video is honestly one of the best things I’ve read in a long time. Period.
Forever going back to this blog post by Alice Sparkly Kat called How To Write A Lot.
shout out to Adam for spilling the beans
Congratulations Celeste!! 🫶🏾 love seeing your newsletter in my inbox! And can’t wait to see what grad school has in store for you 😍