The Struggle is Real(ism)

     Those of you who know me know that when it comes to fiction, the more the story can't exist outside the realm of fiction, the more I like it. What I mean by this is simply: I prefer unrealistic stories.

     When I go to the bookstore, my inner monologue while perusing the bookshelves is something like this: Coming of age story about a girl who searches for her adoptive parents? Nah. Too boring. Novel about some teenage drama, sisters' love/hate relationship, and a boy issues of some sort? Yawn. Real life is boring.
     Story of  a girl who moves to a new neighborhood, finds her neighbors creepy, and finds out that they could possibly all be vampires? Sounds cheesy, but I'd probably read it. Retelling of Snow White that takes place in some imagined kingdom with trolls, dwarves, magic, and princes? That has my name written all over it. Series about demon hunters in Victorian London? Um, HECK YES! Novel about a dystopian future with revolution looming on the horizon? A little dark, not quite filled with enough magic for my taste, but it will probably still be awesome. 

     Sometimes, this penchant for the fantastical makes me feel a little "less-than" as an English Literature/Creative Writing major, as if all proper students of literature must enjoy gritty realism or, at the very least, something that doesn't involve dragons.

     This can get awkward at the beginning of the semester during introductions when the professor makes you state not only your name and major, but your favorite book as well (this happens often in English and Creative Writing courses). I say it's awkward because what I really want to name as my favorite book is Ella Enchanted, or all 7 Harry Potters, or The Hunger Games, or any number of other things that are wildly unrealistic and are geared toward readers much younger than me. Usually I don't go first, so if others say things in a similar vein, I do too. But a lot of times they'll have answers like The Great Gatsby (which I, in an act of English major-hypocrisy, quite thoroughly disliked upon last reading) or The Grapes of Wrath, and I feel like my favorite books seem vapid in comparison. In these cases, I typically answer with Catch-22, because, though I haven't read it in a while, I thought it was both hilarious and incredibly thought-provoking, and was probably the novel which first got me thinking about what a terrible thing war really is. Regardless, it's not the novel I pick up to read over and over again. Though I'd like to read it again, I'm not likely to page through the book to reread favorite parts when I'm feeling whimsical, or daydream about the characters and the world they inhabit.

     The point is, I like "silly" fiction. And I am ashamed.

     Or, I was.

     Over winter break, I had a much-needed self pep-talk in which I realized that I always have and always will love folk tales, magic, and the supernatural in my stories, that I'm happy with that, and that I'm not going to change or hide who I am because I feel intimidated by my fellow English majors with more scholarly tastes. I decided that I will embrace my frivolity and write about what I love without being ashamed. Because really, if I plan to write such things in the future, why be ashamed to write about them in creative writing class? Am I really that intimidated to have it critiqued by peers?

     So, rallied by this new self-confidence in my literary interests, I decided that when fiction time came in my creative writing class, I was going to go all out fictional, by which I mean wildly imaginative and not at all realistic.

     But then my creative writing professor sank that ship when he said, "All works for this class will be literary realism. So no aliens or anything."

     Mentally, my reaction was But...but... I want there to be fairies!!!

     Eventually, however, I got over my initial disappointment and decided this will be a good challenge for me. Except, when coming up with story ideas, I kept running into one mental block. What do real people DO?

     Because honestly it all seems kind of lackluster compared to what people who find out they're actually fairy changelings do.

My kind of story usually involves castles. No shame.

     Nevertheless, I will rally all creative powers to try and write the best gosh-darned realistic story that ever was written. Or at least a fairly decent one that I won't be too embarrassed to share. Ask me at the end of the semester if you really want to know how it all goes.