REFLECTIONS of ME a Thesis Submitted to the Kent State
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REFLECTIONS OF ME A thesis submitted to the Kent State University Honors College in partial fulfillment of the requirements for University Honors by Tyler Stratton May, 2021 Thesis written by Tyler Stratton Approved by __________________________________________________________________ ___, Advisor ______________________________________________, Chair, Department of English Accepted by ___________________________________________________, Dean, Honors College ii TABLE OF CONTENTS PREFACE……………………………...………………………………………..iii CHAPTER I. REFLECTIONS OF ME…………….…………….……..……....1 II. EXPLORING THE CRAFT OF MEMOIR……………………..68 III. WORKS CITED…………………………………………………71 iii Preface “Most of us are out of our native waters. We keep close company with our native waters. We keep close company with our family demons and ghost that, to others, seem wistful and anecdotal.” -Matthew Gavin Frank, Preparing the Ghost I went into college assuming my main area of interest would be writing fiction, particularly novels. This started to change once I realized how difficult it really is just to write a short story, much less a book that’s a few hundred pages long. In addition to this, I loved learning about the history of the English language with Dr. Pfrenger, but I never felt like that was a path I wanted to commit to, either. I was stuck. Creative nonfiction isn’t a genre of literature that I thought I would enjoy when I registered for Professor Winter’s Creative Nonfiction course in the spring of 2019. However, this thought process quickly changed when he had us do a few short writing exercises. I had to write just a page or two, nothing intimidating. The hard part was that I had to write about myself. Not a fictional stand-in for me that, for all intents and purposes, is me. Not a cold, omniscient narrator. This had to be me. My own life, from my perspective. I’d never done this before, and I wasn’t sure what to write about. My life couldn’t be that interesting, right? iv I decided to write about something I hadn’t talked to anyone about since my senior year of high school, barring a few friends. I would effectively come out as transgender to the rest of my class. This was mortifying for me. Everyone I’ve known since starting at Kent Salem has been incredibly friendly and accommodating to me. But I had no idea how anyone would react to me being trans. Transgender rights were and are still hotly debated, and I didn’t have a clue where anyone stood on them. For all I knew, the nicest person in class might have wished me ill after they knew or tried to convert me for being a sinner. Overcoming this fear was one of the most freeing experiences for me. I told just a small portion of my experience, about how coming out to my dad went horribly wrong. As it turns out, this was a story that needed to be told. Everyone in class was commending me for my bravery, and it was then that I wondered how many times these sorts of stories aren’t told. How many other kids, teens, young adults, or even older adults bottle up trauma inside of them, and never give it a healthy outlet? I’d be willing to bet that it’s a lot of them. I thought that by telling my story in more detail, I might light a fire in others to do the same. Now I had my first inkling of what my thesis would be. I started planning my thesis the semester before I took Advanced Creative Nonfiction in the spring of 2020, again with Professor Winter. During that course, though, was when I really solidified the style I wanted to write my thesis in. I knew it would be a memoir, but I was stuck on how to begin. Dani Shapiro’s v Inheritance led to me exploring my spiritual journey more in my writing, and Tara Westover’s Educated was just the sort of post-trauma family-based memoir I was aiming for. I also was inspired by Matthew Gavin Frank’s Preparing the Ghost, which mixes elements of personal and academic essay in his quest for the real story of the giant squid. Preparing the Ghost was the first breakthrough I had in starting to write my thesis, because I realized I could tie together seemingly unrelated story threads, and weave them into a larger patchwork quilt that makes sense as a whole. Originally, I honed in on my gender exploration, but this made the resulting writing fairly one-note. It wouldn’t have the relatability for a more general audience that hasn’t experienced the specific way that being trans does. This was when Professor Winter suggested to include more parts about my family. I needed context for the scene I’d written about in 2019 about my dad. This presented its own set of problems, though. It was incredibly hard to write about my family. I was too protective of them, even though there were definitely things I wanted to say. This caused me to have severe writer’s block for weeks, until I finally just wrote more one night. Then when we discussed my new additions, it felt like I was finally getting somewhere. I just had to dig a little deeper, flesh out my family members, make it more personal and in the moment. The pandemic affected my writing process a lot, too. Being home all the time meant it was much easier to get off track and allocate my time. Despite that, vi I wrote more than I assumed I could when I started this project. I’m proud of that, and thankful to Professor Winter for helping to push me further than what I assumed I was capable of. Just like in his classes, he encouraged me to dig deeper into an idea, instead of just writing about it on the surface. He made me think about connections between ideas in my thesis that I never would have noticed otherwise. Now that the thesis is finished, I feel I have a newfound appreciation for the craft of creative nonfiction and of creative writing in general. I have a better understanding of what ideas work and which ones don’t. What’s interesting and what’s filler. What is worth telling about my life, and what isn’t. As it turns out, more than I expected ended up working, being interesting, and was worth telling. They just needed some adjustments. If I hadn’t decided to take those two creative nonfiction courses, or decided not to write an honors thesis, it’s possible I would have kept this part of my story locked away, and the emotions I spilled into the page would be left inside, rotting away, numbing me to them even more. If the writing of this thesis has been one thing, it’s been extremely cathartic. Many weights have been lifted off my shoulders just from creating some of these scenes, and this whole process has shown me the general direction I want to take my writing moving forward: shining a light on my life, writing about my own struggle for identity and my relationship with family, so that I might help others to be more understanding, empathetic, and supportive for the people in their own lives. If I can help someone vii in a similar position to me find their way in life faster than I have so far, then I’ve done my job, as far as I’m concerned. viii Reflections of Me I’m young. Four or five years old. I hear a thunder crack. I hug Mom. “What was that?” “That’s thunder, honey. Think of it like angels going bowling up in Heaven. When you hear thunder, they’re getting a strike.” “Oh… okay.” Hearing thunder now, I sometimes imagine the clouds being split open by a bolt of lightning, waves of deafening sound, strength that can’t be contained. Relentless. Unstoppable. * I’m in my early teens, and on a family trip to Virginia. We brought my grandparents along too, all seven of us packed into the van with our luggage. One day, we’re at Virginia Beach, and Grandma is walking out in the water. I’m building a sandcastle. Grandma falls, landing on her hands and knees. Grandpa and my parents stand up. Dad takes out the video camera and starts recording, while Grandpa goes into the water to help Grandma up. She starts standing and slips again. Mom gets up and starts to walk over to help. Dad keeps recording. 1 Brandon, Julia, and I are looking over, wondering what happened. Grandma gets out of the water and sits down under the umbrella. Mom gets mad at Dad. “Why didn’t you help your mom?” “I thought maybe it would be funny to record and look back on.” “She could have gotten seriously hurt! What if she died?” I feel like Mom is maybe exaggerating a little, but I see her point. Grandma still could’ve gotten hurt if Grandpa hadn’t been there beside her. Dad’s camera is holding him back. I look back on this now and wonder just as I did then why my dad didn’t help my grandma. What if she didn’t get back up? Maybe she could have gotten permanent brain damage, or a bone fracture. But he sat back from a distance, recording it all, laughing. * When I was in middle school, I played with Legos a lot. My mom would get me new sets for Christmas, my birthday, even Easter. One day, she told me that when she first started buying Legos for me, it drove her crazy that I would build the set, and then tear it apart within a few days.