Core Curriculum Syndrome

Or: A Big Reason Writing Is So Great.

Something that makes writing—or, most likely, most types of art—a unique field is that you always get to avoid what I call Core Curriculum Syndrome. You're probably familiar with it. It's not wrong to assume you've experienced it yourself, at least to some extent, and you've known others who've had it, too.

The key symptom of this condition is the cry: "When am I ever gonna use this?"

The Chemistry major whines about having to take English classes. The English major whines about having to take Mathematics classes. No matter what specialty someone has, it's, well, a specialty, and there are some things every school requires that really doesn't contribute to it by virtue of content. Certainly any situation, classroom or otherwise, can contribute to general growth as a person, but that's a lot different than a future medical examiner wondering why she has to rotely memorise the key painters of post-Impressionism (no grudges here, no, sir).

Yet as gripping as Core Curriculum Syndrome can be, there's a way out:

Anything could make it into a novel.

Let's suppose (quite reasonably) that knowing the key characteristics of Mannerist art won't help me in any post-mortem investigations. But maybe a character needs some spicing-up, and they may have an inclination towards painting. Maybe the next leg of the journey is in a museum, and I need to set the scene with a tour guide describing an art style in droning tones. Maybe a history-loving character needs some curious euphemisms related to the era he loves.

And so the dreaded syndrome vanishes. I'm not going to say that I eagerly await all experiences in life because I'm not quite that cured, but once I'm out of the worst of it, I can appreciate anything. I still sort of want to throttle whoever decided I still need to take general chemistry after getting a 5 on the AP test, but there are people to meet in that class and corny jokes to hear. Actually, this extra class of chemistry might be my best example of dealing a crushing blow to Core Curriculum Syndrome—somehow it led to me writing (and enjoying) an inane fan fiction that gives chemistry lessons.

This phenomenon isn't even restricted to academic experiences. Even something as simple as riding somewhere (whether I wanted to go there or not) in a car and catching a glance of a truck with vampire teeth on the grill can turn into a story; in fact, my thought that that truck must have been its driver's baby was what got Macbay Transportation Services started.

So, what do you think about Core Curriculum Syndrome?

Life, the Author, and Everything

Life and I have a complicated relationship. Throw in writing, and we have quite a love-hate triangle, constantly battling over each other's hearts and, mostly, time.

How do you balance writing with life? I usually do well enough, but this year has been a brutal tug-of-war in life's favour. Several classes are to blame, though I'm most upset about chemistry (taking it for the third time, after scoring a 5 on the AP test and getting A's every other time—needless to say, it's a hugely frustrating way to tear through time without actually learning anything). I have to kick myself into NaNoWriMo mode to get out 500 words or so of Break Out after a weary day, and I can forget about seriously pursuing other stories at the same time.

Of course, writing is very much based off life, so I'll handle whatever happens knowing I can use it somehow. Perhaps not always quite so optimistically as I just made it sound, but nonetheless handle it.

Time is really the only good weapon life tends to use against me. Crushing stress about exams—I go to writing for freedom. Death of awesome uncle—I apologized to readers if the quality was bad and kept writing, anyway. But loads of chemistry lab work and research paper outlines—there go my hopes of writing (and escape) for the next few days.

Ah, well. I'm sure this happens to everyone.