#1
During my emotionally turbulent senior year of high school, a sister told me about the Melchizedek Literary Award contest. I enjoyed writing, but I never considered myself particularly talented. Still, at her persistent encouragement to “just try writing something,” I eventually sat down in front of my laptop and wrote an essay about a childhood memory involving my mother.
At the time, I was preparing to apply to film school, spending day and night at academies and prepping for interviews. However, I was rejected at lightning speed from every single university I had applied to through early admission. I was devastated. After taking the CSAT with a heavy, uncertain heart, I looked for a different path and ended up applying to the Department of Creative Writing. It was the only field that shared one thing in common with film school: writing. To me, it felt like my last remaining hope. Anyone who has gone through college admissions in Korea knows there is a slot on the application for an emergency contact number. Most people list a parent or sibling. I was so desperate that, along with my family's numbers, I also wrote down the number of the sister who had handed me that literary contest flyer. That week, right after the Sabbath morning worship, that very sister came running up to me, telling me to check my phone because I had been accepted to the university. It turned out the admissions office had tried calling me and everyone in my family, but since no one answered, they finally reached her. And just like that, I unexpectedly became a creative writing student. Almost simultaneously, I received another blessing: I won the Melchizedek Literary Award. Throughout that entire year of preparing for college admissions, I had prayed, “Even though my abilities are lacking, please allow me to multiply my talents for You through writing.” At that moment, I knew with absolute certainty that God was answering my prayers.
Ever since I was young, Korean Language Arts was my favorite subject. I especially looked forward to poetry-writing classes and writing contests. There was something deeply satisfying about filling page after page with my thoughts. I always had so much I wanted to say, but because I was shy, introverted, and lacked eloquence, I usually ended up swallowing my words. So whenever a rare opportunity to write came along, I poured out everything I had been keeping inside.
However, studying writing as a major was an entirely different story. I had never formally prepared for a creative writing program’s entrance exam, nor had I studied the craft deeply. During my very first lecture, I honestly thought I had walked into the wrong classroom. It felt like we spent the entire time endlessly debating questions that had no right answers. As it turned out, that was exactly the point. Seeing us hesitate to speak, one professor reassured the class, telling us that this wasn't a time for finding the “correct” answer, but a space to speak freely.
When you first enter the program, you quickly realize just how much you don’t know. And even though professors say there are no “right answers,” facing a strict grading system can feel like hitting a wall. But there is no need to lose heart. It is only by writing abundantly and leaning into your own unique tastes that you discover your weaknesses and what you struggle with—allowing you to ultimately strengthen and refine those areas.
Although every university differs, as you advance through the years, you typically choose a specific concentration and gradually expand your literary horizons. I even had a classmate who started out writing poetry but later transitioned to playwriting, eventually bringing her work to life on a theater stage. Among all the assignments I completed, the one that left the deepest impression on me was an interview project. The task was to extract a fictional protagonist from a real person’s life and reconstruct their story into a literary work. My interviewee was my mom. As I listened to every detail of her upbringing, I realized that although I thought I knew her better than anyone, I had actually been completely in the dark about so much of her life. The more I studied creative writing, the more I came to see it as a discipline that deeply explores the human condition and the inner worlds we inhabit.
For those hoping to major in creative writing, I highly recommend making time to read as much as possible. The more books you read, the stronger your “lifeline” becomes—a sturdy anchor to hold your thoughts together amid the endless piles of assignments and storms of exams. One classmate of mine kept a reading journal for every book she read. She would underline lines that struck her like a bolt of lightning and copy them into her notebook, saying it helped the words stay with her longer and consistently sparked new ideas.
And the more you write, the easier writing becomes. Try putting into words the realizations you gain through your life of faith, or simply jot down how you felt at the end of the day. It’s also a great habit to save interesting dreams or sudden bursts of inspiration in your phone’s notes app. Oh, and don’t hesitate to submit your writing to SOUL, too. This beautiful season of your youth will never come again—so capture it in writing, so you can look back on these moments and cherish them forever.
#2
When I was a student, I was a humanities person to my very core. Literature classes, in particular, were my absolute favorite. Whenever the broke down a piece of work, I discovered layers of meaning I had completely missed when reading it on my own—the historical context, the author’s background, and the hidden depth behind the words. It made the literature feel so much more compelling. In fact, there were times I was so deeply moved during a lesson that I found myself quietly choking back tears.
I initially applied to the Department of Creative Writing thinking it would be a place where I could deeply study literary theory and masterpiece works across various genres. That was a huge misconception. It turned out to be a department where I was the one who had to produce those beautiful works of literature. To make matters worse, we had to workshop critique our assignments out loud in front of all our peers during workshop sessions, and the quality of our writing directly dictated our grades. It was no walk in the park.
My freshman year was quite a struggle. Many of my classmates had already attended writing academies before college or had spent their teenage years building up portfolios of their own work. Compared to them, I had never written a single poem, so simply surviving in that environment felt overwhelming. Thankfully, I gradually began to find my footing and grew genuinely interested in the craft. What fascinated me most about literature was the profound freedom it offered—the ability to express my own values and worldview without being confined by rigid rules. Since there were no “correct” answers, I loved the classroom atmosphere where everyone freely shared their thoughts. Listening to different perspectives with an open mind naturally broadened my horizons and deepened my understanding of the pieces we studied.
In that way, I gradually discovered my own path to writing well. When students first enter a creative writing program, they often load their text with ornate, flowery prose out of a desperate desire to write well. I was no exception. But I eventually realized that writing isn’t automatically good just because it sounds fancy. Little by little, I laid down that excessive ambition and focused on how to write with absolute sincerity. Although literature is a form of art, I found that some of the most powerful works actually emerge when you write honestly, as if pouring your heart into a personal diary. I practiced drawing out the thoughts I truly wanted to express—pulling the words directly from my mind, one by one. As I embraced my own style, my grades began to reflect it, and my pieces were even selected as exemplary works in class. While the agonizing pain of creation was impossible to put into words, the pieces born from that struggle became precious personal asset—something far more valuable than any letter grade or number stamped on a report card.
They say the pen is mightier than the sword. Writing has the power to influence not only oneself, but also the people around us and society as a whole. Spiritually, it is no different. A piece of writing that reflects on a life of faith or shares a deep realization of God’s love can give strength to many members and even save a precious soul—just as the words of the Bible, written through the prophets by God Himself, continue to move our hearts so deeply.
Today, I am utilizing the talent God has granted me to fully participate in the literary mission. As I write, I catch a small glimpse into Father’s heart—remembering how He penned and painstakingly reviewed His words over and over again, just to teach the truth to His children. Father regarded a single soul as more precious than the entire universe, writing the Truth Books so that His love would reach every corner of the earth. Following His example, I, too, want to convey God’s boundless love to countless souls through the power of writing.
* The “Career Guide” section of “Echoes Across Generations” was created to support students as they explore their future paths, discover their interests, and realize their aptitudes.