A Live Description of An Induction to Undergrad Writing
Originally published on scadconnector.com.
Hello and welcome to the Order of Writing Undergrads! We are very glad you’re here. Be assured, your four years of high school newspaper, poetry clubs and creative writing roundtable were all worth it.
Now, to finalize your induction, place your right hand on this copy of James Joyce’s “Ulysses” (unabridged) and — no, no, it’s fine, I haven’t read it either — repeated after me:
I (your full name) hereby pledge my mind, body, soul, self-security and dignity to the Order and do solemnly promise to commit to the practices that celebrate its ideals, namely:
I shall strive to utterly destroy any and all works that come before me in fiction workshops, then end my critique with a polite and vague compliment.
I shall curate an album of book photos with accompanying excerpts and post them, at poetically irregular intervals, on social media.
I shall nitpick and link all cultural products to obscure Russian epics and casually diminish those who don’t get the references.
I shall finish all crosswords under an hour.
I shall dedicate one month of each year to peruse the complete works of William Shakespeare, during which I shall discuss and recommend them to all of my non-literary cousins.
I shall denounce chick lit and erotica as the works of the Devil and seek to banish them from the minds of people of earth.
I shall never, for as long as I’m of sound mind and body, dog-ear a page, drop cookie crumbs in the gutter, or hold a book fully open and damage its spine (unless, of course, it’s chick lit or erotica).
By joining the Order, I shall ensure in myself and in other members that these Seven Literary Commandments be indestructible as Voldemort’s Horcruxes, be everlasting as the seven books of the Harry Potter series, and remains on a political trajectory as increasingly aggressive as J.K. Rowling’s. My “one favorite quote” will have a slot on my headstone, proving my commitment to literature and to the Order is forever. Expelliarmus and amen.
Whew! Great job! You’re officially a member! Now just go through that green door, there’ll be a table where you sign up for a New Yorker subscription. No, of course we don’t get a commission!
