Literary Event 1: Senior Reading

A few weeks ago, I attended the Reading that involved senior creative writers. As a senior Creative Writing major myself it was a joy to see so many of my friends and peers read. Before the event, I had already known over half of the readers and I was even more enthralled to hear those I had not known were involved in the craft (though I had seen them around in my own large lecture classes).
    What I loved about what was displayed was the wide range of writing presented. There was a lot of poetry. The absurd. The real. The simple. And they evoked such startling emotional responses. There, also, was a variety of fiction. The comical. The fantastic. The realistic. The apocalyptic. These pieces compelled me to imagine the possibilities, of not only what is already given to me but of what is still to come. And finally, it was there where I heard a friend express her own striking and powerful and poignantly sad nonfiction narrative—which I had been dying to hear.  
    All in all, I was very impressed with the heart of these readers. Their dedication to their work. The voices calling to be heard and sympathized and loved. As a jaded senior, I was surprised to find that the event had opened me up to seeing what I had to pursue: which is that of my own passions, that it is quite necessary for me to move to the groove of what it is I love, to what it is that has defined me—which, I believe, is what all of these writers have done. To that end, this event has sparked a small little fire within me again, the fire to write the stories that are forming all around me, which is so important to me, as this is what I hope to dedicate my life to.