About what's literature, and what's not...

Today my classes for this semester have finally ended!
Vacations! Hurray! I get to sleep late, eat a lot and do nothing but write, read, and watch anime!
I love life!

Ok, after this little burst of joy over the beginning of my vacations, let's now capitulate about today.
Today I did my Oriented Literatures' exam.
Not that difficult actually, and although I don't understand squad of what the man says in class, and always find myself with a terrible need to doze off or just fall asleep, I really understood the exam's question. Yes, it was just one question, it had a text that told a small story, and then asked about the difference between the story being on the real or the literary plan.
Now, here is where the problem begins...
I answered exactly as the professor wanted, of course, this is an exam after all, but I don't really agree.
Let me try to explain, you see, according to some guy name Sartre and another guy named Saussure, (and some others, I believe) just describing events is not considered literature.
The every day life of someone is merely documentary and has no interest to us, is of no consequence to that which we call literature.
That it's only fiction works that have the depth necessary to be proclaimed literature, and although I'm sure they have their reasons to say so, I don't agree... you see, I'm an avid reader of fanfiction, mind you, I don't read everything and I definitely don't like everything I read.
But I always try to keep an open mind and I only have one rule: It has to be well written.
The emotions have to pass trough to the reader... me.
And don't think I don't really care about what are the emotions!
Oh, hell no! as an example I'm not a big fan of angst or big drama in fanfiction, (or in anything I read for that matter) but even the other day, I read a piece so well written that it brought tears to my eyes, there was a depth to it, that could not possibly be achieved if there was a 'Walt Disney fairytale' ending to the story.
I believe all writing, should be considered literature, after all, you cannot achieve perfection without practice, and everything you write, until you write your masterpiece, should also be considered literature.
I think there should be no restrictions on what is literature, because that ends up putting restrictions, on what you read! whether you want to read good literature or any literature at all.
Truly, I'm of the opinion that to understand what is good literature, you have to read some bad literature first!
I think professors in school should teach not just the Shakespeare (which I'm a fan) or the Saramago (which I'm not), but also just plain, every day writing too!
Maybe I will live to see the day in which a teacher will give his students some good fanfiction to read. And demand they review!

I think it was Neil Gaiman, who said:
"I think that all writing is useful for honing writing skills. I think you get better as a writer by writing, and whether that means that you're writing a singularly deep and moving novel about the pain or pleasure of modern existence or you're writing Smeagol-Gollum slash you're still putting one damn word after another and learning as a writer."

And to that, all I have to say is: Amen.

Let The Flames Begin...

I love writing

Yes, I do!

I love writing

What about you?

I decided to make this blog, because I felt a need to post my more personal pieces.
My writing is not always appropriate for a group/class blog, so i felt I should have my own blog.
And here he is!

FUEL4LIFE
My life's work.
A blog dedicated to my writings.
All my writings.
It will be a bit like a diary, I suppose...
And I want reviews, so say what you think, please!
I will give you cookies!
Oh, well...

Let The Flames Begin!

Through The Flames I Write...

Another blank page, staring me in the face.
It smirks, and mocking me, says:
"You have no words. Your thoughts have no place on this page. Why stain my skin with that cliché babble? Why bother in the first place?"

I stare down the empty sheet, doing my best to set fire to it with my gaze.
But the best weapons are not my eyes, but my words.

FIRE
I scrawl it across the page.

FLAMES
I draw across the page.

BURN
I recall a line from somewhere, in another voice, from someone else, in a distant memory.
"It was a pleasure to burn."

I could feel the heat on my face, drawing beads of salty sweat that fell, staining the paper.
Smoke stinging my still-glaring eyes.
"Burn," I murmured, willing it with all my being.
All the energy I possessed sped through my calloused fingertips, through a simple ballpoint pen, and tattooed the page with the words of my desire.
I wondered if my words held the power to burn that paper, as it addressed me distastefully. "Worthless," he hissed. "Shit. Trash. Just garbage. Why try? Why waste the ink?"

But I wouldn't accept that.
I would cast my spell, set this night ablaze with nothing but the force of my words.
There would be a warmth and a light, by my own spirit made.
There would be passion and heat.
I would make them see and feel as I see and feel.
Through these simple words, these unextraordinary letters, I would be God for tonight.
I would start a fire with my writing.