Edited by Jim McCrory, Thursday, 10 July 2025, 18:47
Image generated by Microsof Copilot
MA Creative Writing’s Best-Kept Secret
One of the most liberating discoveries during the MA in Creative Writing was being introduced to the personal essay. For me, it was nothing short of a breakthrough—something that changed everything. I chose to specialise on the form rather than fiction, poetry or drama. Let me explain.
There’s a breath-taking scene in Nikita Mikhalkov’s film Urga that captures the feeling perfectly. The camera opens on a vast, open field of emerald grass. At first, there’s only a hint of movement in the distance. Then the image slowly sharpens—hoofbeats, dust hanging in the air, the tension building—until finally, we see him: Gombo, a rugged Mongolian herdsman on horseback, powerful and present at the centre of the screen.
That’s what writing a personal essay feels like. You start with something elusive—a word like nostalgia, a simple sentence like “It happened like this”, or a striking image like Avril Paton’s Windows in the West. At first, you don't quite know where you’re going. But that’s okay. The beauty of the personal essay is in the wandering. You follow your thoughts as they stretch out across the landscape. And slowly, a shape begins to form.
You don’t need a map. You just need to start. The journey might look like a meander or a pilgrimage, depending on your tone or theme. At times it may feel like you're heading nowhere. But trust me—the scenery is worth it. And often, in the quiet act of writing, the path reveals itself.
What begins as a blurred impression becomes a destination through the alchemy of editing. Each draft brings you closer. You’re not lost; you’re refining. And eventually, clarity comes, like the horizon appearing after a long ascent.
The personal essay can carry all that you bring to it: your memories, questions, musings, fears, even your worldview. For me, discovering this form felt like stepping out of a cage. I had finally found a space for my voice, a place where all the threads of my thinking and experience could weave together with meaning.
If you’re considering where to focus your creative energy, let the personal essay tempt you. It’s more than a writing form—it’s a way of thinking, a way of seeing. And if you let it, it might just change your path too.
MA Creative Writing’s Best-Kept Secret
Image generated by Microsof Copilot
MA Creative Writing’s Best-Kept Secret
One of the most liberating discoveries during the MA in Creative Writing was being introduced to the personal essay. For me, it was nothing short of a breakthrough—something that changed everything. I chose to specialise on the form rather than fiction, poetry or drama. Let me explain.
There’s a breath-taking scene in Nikita Mikhalkov’s film Urga that captures the feeling perfectly. The camera opens on a vast, open field of emerald grass. At first, there’s only a hint of movement in the distance. Then the image slowly sharpens—hoofbeats, dust hanging in the air, the tension building—until finally, we see him: Gombo, a rugged Mongolian herdsman on horseback, powerful and present at the centre of the screen.
That’s what writing a personal essay feels like. You start with something elusive—a word like nostalgia, a simple sentence like “It happened like this”, or a striking image like Avril Paton’s Windows in the West. At first, you don't quite know where you’re going. But that’s okay. The beauty of the personal essay is in the wandering. You follow your thoughts as they stretch out across the landscape. And slowly, a shape begins to form.
You don’t need a map. You just need to start. The journey might look like a meander or a pilgrimage, depending on your tone or theme. At times it may feel like you're heading nowhere. But trust me—the scenery is worth it. And often, in the quiet act of writing, the path reveals itself.
What begins as a blurred impression becomes a destination through the alchemy of editing. Each draft brings you closer. You’re not lost; you’re refining. And eventually, clarity comes, like the horizon appearing after a long ascent.
The personal essay can carry all that you bring to it: your memories, questions, musings, fears, even your worldview. For me, discovering this form felt like stepping out of a cage. I had finally found a space for my voice, a place where all the threads of my thinking and experience could weave together with meaning.
If you’re considering where to focus your creative energy, let the personal essay tempt you. It’s more than a writing form—it’s a way of thinking, a way of seeing. And if you let it, it might just change your path too.