I can’t quite believe I’m writing this, but here I am: in the final few weeks of my Creative Writing and English Literature BA. It’s a strange mixture of emotions—excitement, dread, exhaustion, pride. The kind of cocktail you only really get at this time of year when the finish line is in sight, but there’s still a mountain of work to climb first. Everyone around me is either editing final portfolios, buried under books, or stress-eating their way through the nearest snack aisle. It’s chaotic, and a little surreal.
My journey began back in 2021 with a foundation year. As a mature student, returning to education felt like a huge leap, and I wanted a softer landing before diving into the deep end of degree-level study. That year was exactly what I needed—it gave me space to find my footing, ease back into academic life, and shake off the rust from years away from formal education. I relearned how to structure essays, how to reference properly (still not my favourite part), and got a gentle but firm introduction to both critical and creative writing. More importantly, it reminded me that I could do this.
From there, things ramped up quickly. The first year of the degree proper launched me into a whirlwind of literary theories and creative practices. I had to adjust to reading in an entirely different way—slower, more analytical, constantly questioning. There were moments when I doubted myself, moments when I had no idea what a particular text was trying to say, and moments when I genuinely felt like I’d lost the plot (literally and metaphorically). But slowly, piece by piece, it started to click. I began to enjoy dissecting language, exploring meaning, and figuring out how writers constructed their worlds.
The creative side of the course has been the real highlight for me. I’ve experimented with short fiction, life writing, poetry, and screenwriting—some genres I’d dabbled in before, others completely new. Each module pushed me out of my comfort zone, encouraged me to take risks, and forced me to let go of perfectionism. One of the hardest but most valuable lessons was learning how to take feedback—really take it. Not just hearing “this could be stronger” and getting defensive, but genuinely listening, reworking, and learning to see my work through someone else’s eyes. I’ve produced pieces I never imagined I was capable of, and that’s been one of the most rewarding aspects of the whole experience.
Being a mature student came with its own set of challenges. I won’t lie—there were times I felt like I was speaking a slightly different language to some of my younger peers. But I also found that those differences didn’t really matter in the end. Shared interests, shared deadlines, and shared stress levels are great levellers. I’ve formed genuine connections, both academically and personally, and I’ve never once regretted my decision to come back to university, even when I’ve been running on empty and living off microwave meals.
Now, as the final deadlines loom, I’m deep in the last creative pieces for my modules, trying to cram in the final bits of reading, and (reluctantly) preparing for an exam. The pressure is definitely on, but I also feel a sense of clarity that I didn’t have in earlier years. I know what I want to say with my work, I know how I want it to feel, and I trust myself more. That’s not to say I don’t still doubt things—imposter syndrome is very much alive and well—but I’ve come a long way from the version of me who started this course unsure if I’d even make it through the first term.
And amid all this studying and writing, somehow, I also managed to publish three books. Back to School and Into the Badlands were a continuation of my Creatures series. Most recently, I released Short Sharp Shock, a collection of punchy, unsettling stories that allowed me to embrace my love of horror and twisty narratives. All three were written in stolen moments between lectures and assignments—early mornings, afternoons in the library, and weekends when I probably should’ve been relaxing.
Balancing university work with writing and self-publishing hasn’t been easy. There have been a lot of late nights turned early mornings, a lot of coffee-fuelled editing sessions, and more than a few Word documents open at once. But somehow, it worked. Those projects kept me grounded, gave me a creative outlet when academic work became too heavy, and reminded me that there’s a world beyond university deadlines. They also gave me a taste of what’s possible if I keep chasing this path.
As for what’s next… well, that part’s still a bit hazy. I don’t have a perfectly mapped-out plan, and honestly, I don’t think I need one just yet. What I do know is that writing will continue to be a major part of my life. Whether it’s novels, short stories, scripts, or something entirely unexpected, I can’t imagine not writing. It’s become part of who I am—how I process the world, how I express myself, how I connect with others. I might not know the exact job title I’ll hold this time next year, but I do know I’ll still be creating, and that’s enough for now.
So here’s to the last stretch—to the final word counts, the annotated books, the long writing sessions, the slightly disorganised folders of Word docs, and the endless cups of coffee. Here’s to the tutors who challenged and encouraged me, the classmates who made it bearable, and the version of me who took a risk by applying in the first place.
Almost there. And ready—maybe even excited—for whatever comes next.
Gareth Ellis - Author 