Yes, it’s the weekly update about my MA adventures.
I have my results back for the assignments I handed in at the beginning of term. For my radio drama I got 73% and a suggestion that I might consider writing radio drama for my dissertation. Another tutor suggested I’d have got a higher mark with a less restrictive subject, but I enjoyed it, It’s easy writing stories based on reality because once I get all the character traits and background detail, and the timeline sorted out in my head I can just fit it all together.
I had already thought about what I’d like to do for my dissertation and was pretty decided on the matter, but now I’m seriously considering writing an hour long radio drama instead of the first 13,000 words of a novel. There’s a lot of research to do for that particular novel and I’m seriously considering using it for my doctorate instead. I don’t know.
For my creativity module I got 68%. I wrote a short story about a dragon. It was a bit comic, the dialogue was quite good and there was a message about human incursion in to wild places (apparently – I was just writing a story about a dragon angry that his book hoard had been stolen) but the tutor/markers couldn’t work out what age/market it would appeal to. To be fair, I don’t think either of them read comic fantasy. The thing about comic fantasy is it can usually be read by everyone, and everyone can find an age appropriate message in it. I laminated humans to a cave floor with dragon fire. Make of that what you will.
What else happened?
Oh yes, that’s right. I read out the piece I intended to hand in as my life-writing assignment. I was told it lacks passion and sounds like an obituary. I have to rewrite it, or write something else. I’ve decided to do both and see which works best. I started work on the new piece on the train home. It’s about my abusive grandmother. She spent the first nine years of my life treating me like crap and I’ve been dealing with the consequences ever since. It’s really not surprising that I lack self-confidence when I spent my formative years being told I was a bad person. This from a woman who used to play her children and other family members off against each other, liked to play favourites with her grandchildren, and caused no end of arguments because of her spite.
I’ve never grieved for her, she doesn’t deserve that honour but I do grieve for the missed chances and opportunities because of the damage she did to me. There’s still a child inside my heart in pain because her sister and cousin got to go out for the day with Grandma and Granddad and she didn’t. Petty maybe, but you try being told that you’re no good and blamed every time someone misbehaves. Yes it still hurts. It hurts, too, that most of my family deny it ever happened.
In only slightly related news, I start counselling 1st March. This is the first thing I’m going to bring up. Also on 1st March I have my first appointment with a psychiatrist. I really hope I get some medication for my anxiety, and antidepressants that actually work.