The Great Paradox
Part 1: A Dramatic Reflection
Writing is debilitating. Writing is anxiety and fear. Writing is beautiful, liberating, and might I even say, confidence. I guess it’s sour and sweet, calm and chaotic; a twisted, dirty, and wonderful paradox that has haunted my existence. This is my manifesto– or at least all that I’ve known to be true during my college years.
Over the past 6 years that I’ve been here at USC, I’ve written a multitude of non-fiction essays. From argumentative essays, film analyses, and personal statements, it is always the same story– anxiety. The story goes as follows: I am assigned an essay, I procrastinate, I procrastinate some more, my anxiety is heightened until I can no longer wait and I am left with nothing but to suffer through an all-nighter. But why must it always happen?
(I apologize if this is a bit melodramatic. I just feel strongly about this, since it has haunted me for over 6 years, but I figure that's just how these things go.)
The key word here is assigned or in other words, I am required, forced, obligated to write never yearn, wish, or desire to write. I’ve never woken up and thought to myself, “I would like to write an essay today.” I guess I’ve never considered myself an excellent writer.
And so this brings me to my first point of reflection: writing for acceptance versus writing for myself; writing out of obligation versus writing because I want to.
Mostly, I’ve always written for a grade. During WRIT 150, I wrote for a grade and it was one of the first times where I never got the grade I was expecting. It was a blow to my confidence as a writer and I didn’t have much confidence to begin with. It was the first time that my writing did not meet others' expectations and therefore did not meet my expectations.
My biggest fear is someone looking at my writing and saying, “That makes no sense.” It’s happened before and it kept happening a lot during college. I would get my papers back and I was met with criticism accompanied by a bad grade. My writing was never accepted. It was not good enough for a better grade and boy did it get to me. Writing, which was already something I was required to do and did not like, became painful and draining.
The lingering question was, “I don’t know if I am answering the prompt.” I seek validation, clarification, or guidance from my professors. I stare at the prompt for HOURS, trying to make sense of it– trying to break it down, piece by piece, making sure I understand all the points I am required to make because if I don’t do well, I will fail. This freaked me out and I felt like I was micromanaging myself– if that’s even possible.
I would make myself feel better by listening to music or even writing late at night where I had no judgments; no outside perspectives but my own. That is when I feel the most free and confident, when I can pour out my words and re-read them with pride, like, “Yeah, I wrote that alright!”
Sometimes writing is a reflection of your confidence. You are taking a stand, making a declaration, and running with it. In the end, writing is a reflection of you and that can be scary.
All I want is to be heard and accepted. I would sit there and ask myself, “What am I even trying to say?” Even with this autobiographical reflection, I am trying to impress you, the reader, who will most likely only be my professor. I am telling myself that I am attempting to be vulnerable but that is only with the hope that my vulnerability will be met with a pat on the back.
That’s why writing is so draining to me. I am beating myself up and spreading myself thin for one essay that will eventually be graded and will only be met with criticism that I have no control over, time and time again. This is the story of Xiomara’s writing reflection.
But (and that's a very thin and narrow but) there have been special moments when writing was liberating. This is my second point of reflection: meeting myself with acceptance.
That special moment started with a crazy dream of wanting to go to film school. I was on what was supposed to be my last year of college when I decided to apply to USC’s School of Cinematic Arts. And so there I was, tasked with completing an application to film school. Except getting the application completed was no different than my other writing experiences. It was the same anxious story of procrastination.
I put it off, but this time the risk was much heavier than before. My dreams were on the line. Yes, I know it sounds dramatic but I really wanted this. I felt immense pressure and it did not help that I waited until the absolute last minute to write my personal statement.
I was left with less than 48 hours to complete all parts of my application, which included editing a documentary, writing a script and resume, as well as other stuff that I can’t quite remember. The point is I had a lot to do with very limited time. I was also feeling insecure when writing my personal statement. It was going to determine whether or not I was accepted and that was terrifying.
It is safe to say that the odds were not in my favor. It was a messy equation of anxiety, doubt, and insecurity, all things that I already carried with me from my past writing experience added with the new immense pressure that came with my hopes and dreams of filmmaking.
Although, strange enough, this moment was different. It did not feel debilitating– intimidating, yes, but not debilitating. I had a strong sense of motivation. Obviously, because I wanted to do this. That was the striking difference between writing for academic purposes and writing for a purpose– my purpose. I was met with anxiety, pressure, and doubt but I welcomed it with confidence and grace. I welcomed myself with acceptance and it was a beautiful experience.
Still, I was left staring at a blank page with time slipping by and doubt flooding my brain. I once again listened to music, although this time it was a specific song. I had Natalia Lafourcade’s song, “Hasta la Raiz” on repeat.
This time, I desired to be vulnerable in my writing. I was given the task of explaining why I wanted to be a storyteller in less than 1,000 words and I wanted to be authentic in my writing. Yes, I wanted to be accepted but I was more occupied with declaring why I wanted to be a filmmaker. Ultimately, I discovered what fueled my passion for filmmaking through writing, which I thought was impossible… who knew writing could be wonderful?
This is my paradox. In the end, I kind of loved it. Yes, I ended up shaking with fear once I submitted, but I couldn’t help but feel proud of the finished product; of the new layer of myself as a writer that I had uncovered. I met myself where I was and it was graceful.
In the end, writing is debilitating and painful at times, but it can also be what you make of it. Granted, I have had more bad experiences than good but that is why I think writing is a twisted, marvelous paradox. It is both good and bad. It’s been a journey and it keeps evolving.
Part 2: Contextual Analysis
In the following paragraphs, I will discuss an analytical essay I wrote for one of my Cinema and Media Studies classes. The paper is titled, “The Innocent Battalion: Power and Loss.” It is an analysis of the film, Beasts of No Nation (Fakunaga, 2015). The essay discusses how the film portrays the loss of a child’s innocence and the pain that comes with it. It also talks about the corruption of gaining and maintaining power, specifically in a war.
The paper aims to convince the reader or reveal the film’s language or noir, themes, and symbolism. With this essay, the approach was to walk the reader through a specific scene, step by step, and finally conclude and declare the film’s goal. Within each paragraph, each sentence is built onto the next in a fluid manner. In some cases, the sentences were word-heavy and packed with a lot of information, however, it still maintained a clear message. The structure consisted of first setting the scene very briefly, then stating facts about the scene, and finally connecting them all together to make an argument. It was a lot of “first this,” “then this,” and topped off with an “In conclusion” or “Thus.”
It is clear from this structure that the intended audience was those that were familiar with the film and wanted to explore more about the film’s themes and symbolism. Even more so, the main audience was my T.A. From early on when the assignment was given, our T.A. made it clear that our intended audience was her so we could assume to not go into depth when giving context or summarizing what the film is about. Thus, my main goal was to provide a clear and concise analysis of the film’s language. The questions I was aiming to answer were the following: What themes did the film explore and how did the film express it? What was the message and underlying symbolism of the film? In doing so, I had to make every single sentence, word, and character count. I had to leave out all the fluff, which I’m not necessarily keen on, and focus on my main arguments. I had to be convincing in analyzing a scene and allow people to see what I was interpreting and analyzing.
Ultimately, the essay prompted the reader to reflect. Usually, the only people to deeply analyze a film are film critics. Other times, they are film enthusiasts or perhaps someone that has a Letterboxd account. My point is that, for the most part, people usually aren’t watching a film to analyze the use of props, colors, or costumes. They are not necessarily thinking about the cinematography or editing. They are simply watching the film and walking away with how the film made them feel.
With an intense film like Beasts of No Nation, it is important, in my opinion, to think about its context, themes, and messaging on a deeper level. On a surface level, the film dives into power dynamics in combination with war. It portrays children being stripped of their innocence and forced to become soldiers. However, I wanted to portray the film’s interpretation of these themes on a deeper level– to reflect on why the film chose to use props in a certain way, or portray characters in a specific manner, or even why the characters are wearing certain colors and wardrobe. Because, in my opinion, the film has a complex lens on war and childhood and the effects of those things. Additionally, most of the readers would probably be people who have never experienced war. Thus, the essay is a call for reflection on the effects of war, specifically when it comes to children.
On the other hand, there are plenty of people who might argue that a film is just a film. Some might think that there is no use in analyzing the film’s noir. That is what I was arguing against. I wanted to convince this audience that the film has a much deeper intention and interpretation. Funny enough, I sometimes align myself with those beliefs or I usually don’t like to think about the deeper meaning behind a film. In a way, I was also challenging myself to reflect. I believe that is why this essay was pretty good at convincing. I like to view it as a short guide for the film or a tool that plenty of people can use to allow room for a much deeper and thoughtful reflection– one that others can engage with and add onto.