I just transferred to Florida State University this January, and I was so excited. The flurry of nerves and anticipation wasn’t just because I was going to start at a beautiful school, but because I was finally doing what I love. My transfer to FSU was a consequence of changing my major from Nursing to Creative Writing, something that I was always too afraid to pursue. I was ready though, and I was so happy I made that decision. I walked into my first class, giddy. I had a schedule full of English classes, which apparently, they advise against, but I still didn’t care. I was ready to drown in words and workshops.
Just barely halfway through my first semester, everything falls apart. I’m in the middle of a workshop (my first ever!) of a first draft for a personal essay and about to begin another workshop for a short story. A third workshop was on the horizon, but unfortunately, I never had the opportunity to experience it.
When Florida State caught wind of COVID-19, and realized that it was becoming a serious problem, spring break was just around the corner. Schools were closing, students were expected to go home and stay there. This was difficult for a lot of students that lived significantly far from home or had nowhere else to go.
Going home and transitioning to online learning was a challenge. In the weeks leading up to Spring Break, and therefore the end of in-person classes, my professors were just as lost as we were. They were trying to figure out a way to do workshops online, all while maintaining the constructive and positive environment that comes with a good workshop. While my professors were really understanding, patient, and determined to make this transition as comfortable as possible, it was difficult for everyone. My twitter was crowded with students complaining and agonizing over how difficult online is proving to be. The workshop that my professors hyped me up for was supposed to be face-to-face, full of honesty, sentiment, criticism, and support. I was so bummed out.
The solution my professors came up with, honestly let me down. There wouldn’t be zoom calls to go over each other’s work, where we could at least see and hear one another to get as close as we can to a face-to-face workshop. Instead, it would be a combination of letters, line edits sent over in an email, and bland comments attached to the file. “Hey, I really enjoyed your work, keep it up!”. I was upset, and this semester was proving to be one of the hardest in my college career.
Having the understanding that writing and workshops won’t always be as picturesque as imagined helped dampen my disappointment. Sometimes line edits from a busy editor are all I am going to get back as a writer, and as an artist, it’s my job to make it work, despite the circumstances.