Streams of Self-Addressed Letters
Streams of Self-Addressed Letters
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I think by the time I am writing this, I have easily been taught over two hundred literary terminologies and techniques and their overtly complex names dianoia, synecdoche, agathakakological, epigram vs epigraph vs epitaph. It is an extensive list; I can barely remember any of it until three hours before the exam, except for one technique: a stream of consciousness.
This term refers to a flow of writing that mimics the writer's thought process, as opposed to the traditional block-formatted, grammatically sound, sensible writing. Humans, especially writers at that, do not usually have an orderly thought process, as the brain is a haywire and unkempt trench, with thoughts scurrying around, bumping into one another, trying to crawl up the sides for even a crack of sun. Hence, while most novels are based off a multitude of planning, research, and specifications, the stream of consciousness only requires one thing: the courage to pen your thoughts as they come and go.
The title of this anthology, is reminiscent of this technique. While I love poetry, reading, and telling stories as much as the next person, written vulnerability has always plucked my heartstrings in a way perhaps no other technique has. Perhaps that is why, even if Austen remains my comfort author, I turn to Plath for reassurance. It is honest, the technique. And I have attempted to make this collection, if not honest, emotionally vulnerable. While the emotional vulnerability does not necessarily reflect my own experiences, because neither have I ever encountered the Merchant of Venice, or attended a single dance lesson, what I love the most about writing is that anything and anyone can be made true, real and different so long as you have the gumption to write them as such. It's a wonderful world, that of the written word.
The collection is divided into four main sections: Madness, for the thoughts that run astray; Melancholia, for the astray thoughts to be swallowed; Huntress, for the courage to swallow the thoughts in a world meant to gut you for it; and Hope, for the thoughts to actualize into the change I see in the world, the change I want to see.
I hope you can see it too someday. I hope you can read this as a growth curve of sanity, and realize that perhaps, just perhaps, there is room left to dream. Afterall, everyone who dared to dream was always a little insane.