10 things I need to share from writing camp

Okay, more than a month has passed since I last posted. So before I talk about writing camp, I need to apologize.

I’M SORRY FOR NOT POSTING FOR A MONTH.

I was trying to get stuff done (a very vague excuse) and I was writing posts in advance for July so I would be ready when I started my job (a very good excuse.) Should I have mentioned that I wouldn’t be posting for a month? Maybe. Did anyone die? Maybe. Did I learn lots of stuff last week? YEAH.

To fill you in, I was at writing camp at Indiana Wesleyan University last week, which was one camp out of seven that they had going on for the Wildcat Summer Academy. And I had FUNNN.

So here are all my condensed thoughts about the proceedings of last week. Be warned; they are weird.

1. Sleep is both overrated and underrated??

Breakfast was from 7:00 to 8:00 with classes starting at 8. The soonest you could go to bed was 10:00 (not counting the time it takes to get to the dorm.)

I woke up every day at 6:30ish and got to bed anywhere from 11:30 to 12:30.

Whenever I woke up, I strongly questioned how long it would take me to get ready and if I even needed a shower (I did.) But, after the second day, I stopped worrying about getting to the food court before 7:40 because I literally could not eat anything that early.

I would yawn approximately 200 times before lunch and then, for the rest of the day, not feel tired at all. So do I really need all the sleep I’m getting? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

2. Sharing a bathroom is somewhat terrible.

For whatever reason, all the campers were put in a guys dorm. So I am going to blame everything bad about the bathroom on that.

For starters about the bathroom, it had two showers. Which was good. But, they had glass doors that were basically see-through, so you had to balance your towel over the edge and not even breathe on it or it would fall off and become soaked in five seconds (a s k  m e  h o w  I  k n o w.)

Plus, two of the people in my dorm had a habit of taking up all four sinks in the bathroom while playing loud rap music in the morning. (But to be honest, it was also kind of funny.)

And to top it all off, there were no trash cans in the bathroom. Because apparently, men do not throw things away.

3. Not being around people is great, but I miss eavesdropping and having random conversations about Tom Holland.

Alone time is something that I already knew I took for granted, being a homeschooler and all. But now that I’m not constantly around other teenagers, it’s weird.

I’m not overhearing conversations about the birthing simulator or what’s happening in one of the theatre kids’ plays. I’m not staying up past 12:00 talking to my roommate about the ending of Infinity War. And I’m not having as many conversations about Tom Holland? I don’t know why, but he was discussed a lot. One of the girls in writing camp had a sweatshirt with him on it, which was both odd and inspirational.

4. Communication is key.

On the very first day of camp (Sunday), all the artsy majors grouped up. We had to get in lines from youngest to oldest and shortest to tallest without speaking. This taught us the power of communication and teamwork or something like that.

All I want to say is that everyone in charge of the writing camp could have used a little more communication to work out details. For instance, on the website, it says to not bring a laptop, even though it actually would have been useful to have one (and lots of writers brought one anyway.) It was the first year of writing camp, though, and everything else went very smoothly. But communication is important.

5. Writing without a deadline is the sweetest joy in my life.

I mean, I still have a blog, but the deadline on that is like a week compared to four hours.

Writing with a short deadline is a good motivator. It’s possibly made me a more efficient writer. But having the freedom to write when you want to is like owning a chocolate fountain. It is beautiful and probably overrated.

6. But stressing about deadlines is usually pointless.

Little known fact: stressing out about something doesn’t actually fix the problem.

I kinda forgot this when I had a group project with three other people to finish a five-minute script that we had to perform the next day. Buuuut, we still got it done in time. Our professor even said he thought our closing line worked the best with the rest of our skit.

7. Writing all week gives you enhanced writing-stuff sensors.

Now everything I read/watch goes through an analysis of dialogue, tropes, repetition, clichés, imagery, etc., etc., etc. I already did this stuff to a point, but now it’s like I got bit by a radioactive English teacher.

8. I now have a need to add sensory details to everything I write.

I already knew that sensory details were important in writing. For descriptions, most people start with what they can see, but describing taste, touch, sound, and smell can add a lot to writing (just don’t go overboard.)

But now I feel like I should be describing the clacking sound of my keyboard to you. Or the way my eyes are starting to burn, just a little bit, from staring at my laptop’s screen. Or how stupidly hot it is outside. Because it is really hot outside.

9. Also, I have some unholy desire to write…..poetry?

What even.

10. Having to share your writing with others and read it aloud won’t kill you, just make you dead-ish.

I think this title basically says it all.

Sharing your half-baked lasagna writing with people is dreadful, but it gets easier with practice, especially when the people you’re sharing with are in the same boat. By the end of the week, it didn’t really bother me.

Reading your half-baked lasagna writing aloud, however, is the worst. My opinion of this will not change.

Also, this doesn’t fit into any of these categories, but on the last day I had a dessert that was called bread pudding (I think.) It was a compilation of every cake we had had that week (red velvet, vanilla, poppy seed, carrot) covered with a custard/sauce type thing. And you could taste nothing but the sauce. None of the cake flavors stood out, though they were clearly visible. I am still traumatized.