For all the complaints about college students becoming more puritanical, more likely to avoid sex or substances, more likely to reject art that deals explicitly with sex, my students this semester really seemed to like the smutty parts of the readings.

Their writings reflected this. Not pure at all. In fact, some of it was pretty filthy. In a good way. One that explored character and ideas. It used the dark underbelly of society as a jumping off point to examine the human condition.  

Every creative writing class and every creative writing teacher emphasizes different aspects of craft throughout. This one ended up talking a lot about pacing and the dynamic use of setting, which makes sense given the genre’s need for atmosphere and speed.   

I learned a ton about these aspects of writing from my students. They saw these books and stories in a fresh way, one that pushed my own assumptions about what I was teaching. That doesn’t always happen in a class, but these students were special. 

For whatever reason, films and novels didn’t work. Neither did books. Short stories did. Texts I’d thought they’d love, fell flat (The Thin Man and Cotton Comes to Harlem), while more literary crime fiction (Lauren Groff’s “The Wind” and Edward Jones’ “Old Boys, Old Girls”) were among their favorites. 

Like all creative writing classes, this one was mostly made up of women. 

And these women killed a lot of men in their stories. Bad men. Men who had it coming (mostly). Men who cheated. Men who raped. Men who murdered. 

The guys also killed a lot of men. Because men commit most crimes.