When I was younger, I struggled a lot with what I wanted to do with my life. In the background of every day, I had heard that STEM (science, technology, engineering, mathematics) was the way to go, the only way to make any money, the only way to prove your intelligence. In high school, I loved science, and after a unit of genetics, I thought I knew my path. The variability on this planet just simply amazed me. There are over 100 genes that determine your hair color alone; I do not know how else to put it other than, it just blew my mind.

Fast forward two years, I’m ten months away from collecting my diploma and I’m panic-dropping physics three days into the school year. I fib my way into obtaining a drop-slip, and suddenly I’m running to my freshman year English teacher-turned-librarian, asking him what on earth I can do with an English degree outside of teaching in the U.S. 

I continued attempts to pursue English, creative writing and linguistics at a few different higher education institutions, and ultimately ended up at Russell Sage College… as a biology major. I am ashamed to admit that I turned my back on literature for a bit; I disregarded and disrespected her the way society usually does due to the pressures I experienced from some people in my life. Though I am aware that it was never intentional, ignorant folks very close to me were able to convince me that this part of me does not live up to that of STEM - that English majors “don’t do anything”, and I cannot be someone that didn’t do anything. But without the development of critical thinking and literature, where would we be today?

I realized very quickly that, not only was I absolute garbage at math with no chance of passing Organic Chemistry II, but I was anxious and stressed and suppressing a massive part of my soul. It wasn’t until my first writing class at RSC that my passion for writing and reading was reawakened, and my professor introduced me to a brilliant educator that opened my eyes to the industry of editing and publishing - an industry for which I feared an approaching demise in my teenage years. 

It took no time to re-immerse myself in the world of literature, and though I may (we’ll see where my book goes) end up with a lesser salary than that of a geneticist, I am happier. For twenty-six years, I had tried to fit into a mold, breaking apart in order to squeeze into the box I condemned myself to. A cliché, perhaps, but literature has saved my life more than once. I am guilty of straying from her path, but I have found it again, and this time, I’m walking hand in hand with science, because we both need English.

School’s out. Warm, golden sunlight brushes your arms, and you’re ecstatic. But these next few months, you won’t get the treat of relaxing on your bed all day long; you’ve applied for a residential writing summer program and were accepted.

Creative writing summer camps. Magnificent on a college transcript. Helpful for your creative flow? 

Some may argue spending two weeks straight in a building having nothing to work on except your art is in fact detrimental to your creative mind; being forced to write for hours on end may not be the best remedy for writer’s block. In fact, that may even strengthen it. After all, these camps aren’t exactly merciful, and they don’t have the time to allow your inspirations to glide along naturally. 

A typical daily schedule: wake at six. Be ready by six ten and not a minute late. Finish breakfast at seven fifteen after being swallowed up by the gargantuan cafeteria line all the while inhaling the toxic fumes of instant powdered milk. Rigorous classes for eight hours until you return to an uncomfortable mattress with fellow campers packed into rows like sweaty sardines.

On the other hand, people with intense schedules or dealing with a chronic habit of procrastination may find the unbridled writing time beneficial–  it’s hours of freedom to devote to your work. Plus, camp classes are never short of intriguing prompts to spur on the students, and the campuses are never short of spaces conducive to writing. Quaint lakeside spot? Beautifully constructed library? Rustic forest quiet? Chances are, the camp will be equipped with all of these.

My own experience with a creative writing summer camp was, for the writing side of things, great. Granted, some classes were boring and unhelpful, but the others were fantastic. I had the chance to complete and fully edit a worldbuilding piece in one and delved deep into the art of memoir and lyrical style in another. My teachers were wondrous– encouraging and witty, they knew how to talk to their students and interrupt awkward silences. The conditions of the camp itself were certainly questionable, especially the living conditions– one faculty member said it was as if we were quite literally camping– but this doesn’t greatly factor into my classroom experience. Would I return to this place, though? No is the definitive answer. It doesn’t matter how engaging my classes were; the dorms were simply far too awful. 

So what’s a satisfying conclusion to this introspection? To many, writing camp is a chance to retreat into a restful writing world and pour real time into their work. But of course this won’t be the same for everyone. A lot depends on the quality of the campus and the curriculum and the staff. But if you find a camp that suits your needs and don’t feel turned off by the prospect of doing nothing but writing for a large chunk of the summer, then creative writing summer camp should roll on perfectly for you.

"A decision to major in English, despite my love for it, became my greatest source of shame.

I often find myself now, post-grad, stuck in a headspace of depression and repressed regret.

I spent nineteen years of my life being a student. Five of those years were spent in college, a landmark of the most important part of anyone’s career journey, and I was focused on English studies.

Ahem. Let me revise my statement. I spent five, not the typical, what-should’ve-been four, years at a private college. I was always taught that “private” meant apart, sworn secrecy, but not necessarily a special place to be. Besides, what exactly makes a private college any more special than a public school? I had aimed to attend an HBCU, a SUNY, or a CUNY. My family never wanted me to go far away, but I had wanted a change. At the time, many people questioned my decision to major in English at a private liberal arts college. They couldn't understand why I didn't choose to attend a larger, public university with a more "common" major (Business, perhaps). I didn’t understand why I hadn’t been told that I could pick a specific focus within the English Major - for instance: most universities offer concentrations that would help with my studies, interests, and career goals as English is so broad. I think looking back, a lot of things went into this mishap such as communication, program structure, and advising. If I had better known my options earlier I would’ve been able to make a better informed decision about the coursework and my future plans. It wasn’t until my junior year of college I discovered other fields such as childhood education existed. I chose English, but the focus was chosen for me..."

"They always say the best career is based on doing something that you love. It will feel like joy, so that you’ll never actually work a day in your life. I always assumed this statement to be true, but then I went to university.

I grew up shy in a loud Caribbean family, so reading became my escape – my time to sit away from the madness with nothing in my head but the troubles and adventures of the characters in the books I read. I found a voice in those characters. Through reading, I could be as brave as Harry Potter, as boisterous as Tracy Beaker, and as smart as Matilda. In other words, I could feel different from the girl who felt lost every time she stepped outside her house, whose identity was defined by her relationships with others. I was a girl who couldn’t navigate a social situation without her comfort people beside her.

But at home, in my quiet little bubble, with the unconditional love of my family and a book, I could be anyone I wanted to be..."



"Experiences shape how we all view the world and we navigate and transverse it. From the way we act and interact, our beliefs and morals, our personalities, our likes and dislikes and more, are all products of our experiences. 

But what is an experience?

According to the American Cambridge dictionary, an experience is: “(the process of getting) knowledge or skill that is obtained from doing, seeing, or feeling things, or something that happens which has an effect on you.” When something has an effect on you, it alters you. It changes you. And it is this change that can be either positive or negative and prompt a positive or negative reaction.

Your experiences shape you as a person, though it doesn't define you, it does however impact your creativity. Creativity not only enables you to develop your passions, showcase your talents and skills, it also gives you an outlet to tell your story in a unique way. That is the beauty of your creativity. 

It empowers you..."