Tvůrčí dopis do Oxfordu

Když jsem se před pěti lety hlásila ke studiu tvůrčího psaní v Oxfordu, chtěli po mně řadu textů, jazykových zkoušek, doporučení a prohlášení. Jedním z vyžádaných dokumentů byl i takzvaný personal statement. Žánrově šlo o motivační dopis, kterých jsem předtím i potom psala ještě desítky, ale vysvětlit motivaci ke studiu psaní, navíc v cizím jazyce a ke všemu se pokusit o neotřelou literární formu nebylo nic lehkého. Vzpomínám si, že jsem nad dopisem strávila týden (přemýšlením, váháním, škrtáním, výmluvami na kvalitu pera a papíru, na počasí a zaneprázdnění, proklínáním sebe sama a trháním poznámek na kusy) a chybělo málo, abych dík tomu prošvihla termín odeslání přihlášky. Nakonec jsem napsala text, který během velkého finále možná rozhodl o mém přijetí. Našla jsem ho včera v zasuté složce flashky, která mi v Oxfordu spadla do záchodu, takže funguje pouze občas. Textu se mi zželelo, a tak jsem se rozhodla povýšit ho na Metodický pokyn.

Let’s recapitulate the story: the heroine is a twelve-year old girl, who comes to Oxford for an English course. One day she gets her homework back from the teacher. It is a short-story and on the bottom of the page, there is a note: „Excellent. This is really excellent. PLEASE keep writing.“ Her heart shivers with pride and hope. She is not imagining herself a writer. An author of a few stories, a book, perhaps.

She keeps writing, though, and at the age of nineteen, her first book comes out. Many people say: “See? Now you are a writer!” Too scared of maybe spoiling the opportunity, she disagrees and remains to be an author of more texts and articles and books eventually, but finally, she opts for law as a career.

She starts to live in a privileged and preferred world. Law brings her to many inspiring situations and she doesn’t give up writing. Each case is a story, the end of which she can create – she can make it come true. She feels, nevertheless, that law in all its efficiency and glamour, is limited to being just a tool. It is not a passion. It is no longing. It can’t aspire to grasp and seize her life.

From time to time she opens the book of her memory and tries to turn its pages backwards, seeking the paragraph, where the plot would allow her to restart and go on with another story, but she has problems finding it; the cobweb of events and experiences is too dense and the clarity of reflection has disappeared. 

The story is slowly becoming unreal and boring. Even though there is so much of good dialogue, characters and action, its overall message looks unconvincing and the heroine’s credibility dissolves in fear and conformism.

Successful and sad, she continues writing. Deep inside, she longs for an indication, a sign that would show her how to make the story flow again.

And the sign comes: one day she receives an e-mail which says: “I read your book. The power of your writing changed my life. Thank you.”  The sought crossroad-paragraph instantly appears before her eyes: it is on the page where a twelve-year old girl comes to Oxford for an English course and who is shy to say: “I will become a writer.”

Her heart shivers again. Letting the stories of her case-files unfinished, she grasps her pen with new enthusiasm and belief. The plot has now the chance to continue well; it is time that she returns to Oxford and that somebody, again, writes “Excellent!” on the bottom of her short-story.

She will give everything and her best to deserve it.

At the page of today, she finally has found the courage to imagining herself a writer.