Thoughts on class January 25th.
I’m in a writing class this semester in London and we are challenged to write three diaries a week and so I’ll be writing them here. We get to read writing from British authors to think about, we’re given quick-write prompts and we’ll talk about using London as material for our writing.
In my first class, we did it all, we wrote fast fiction of something we had seen in London, we read excerpts from British writers and we did other quick writes… and using London as material is something that I have put a lot of thought into before coming here. I have put so much pressure on my shoulders to really utilize this place and the opportunities it affords me to write well and generate good content that completes and articulates my experiences here. It’s unnecessary but I think it’s because it means so much for me to be here and this is something I have been waiting for for so long that it feels like “my shot”. My chance to be here and be doing this, living here, wandering here. It’s my opportunity, my first long-term opportunity to hold the world in my hands. And that means that I have the pressure to make it matter as the first. Even if I tell myself I will come back to Paris, to Florence, and to London, it’s still the first. You only have one first time, it’s unnecessary to be so redundant but I also feel it’s important to say because I only have one first time to see the Eiffel tower and to feel that awe and see the sparkle and that moment will forever be the first time and you only get that once and this, right now, is it. I may live in London again one day but this is my first time and so I have the pressure to make each first truly worthy of the place I am in and of deserving my first time.
In my class, we talked about great first lines. Among them: Anna Karenina, Pride and Prejudice, Catcher in the Rye, The Secret History, Jane Eyre, Lolita. So as we read Irenosen Okojie’s Butterfly Fish‘s opening line to compare to all of the great first lines I couldn’t help but think of all of my first experiences. It can be understated, it can be simple, but it starts the entirety of your story. It begins your novel. And it will forever be the first impression.
“A green palm wine bottle rolled on the wet London Street.”
Irenosen’s first line. It’s understated. It has placement and imagery and feeling and a weight to it that allows the reader to spiral into questions and jump into picturing the scene. And yet, it’s a green palm wine bottle rolling on the wet London Street. So all of my firsts can be just an understated placement, full of movement, and caught in a moment, but it still has to matter. Of course, it has to matter.
The Art of Getting Lost 