Reflection on Creative Writing: Be Flexible and Creative in GEMC
03March2026
Marjorie Wang
Psychology, Year 1My name is WANG Wenqi, Marjorie, a Year 1 Psychology student with green hair bright enough to spot across campus✨ — you can usually find me tucked into a corner on L2 of the University Library and making a happy mess in one of the art workshops. I’m a naturally outgoing person who is active in life and human connections. Creatively, I express myself through writing and painting — and I’ve always been a dreamer with a mind that runs wild.
Photo credit: Marjorie Wang
For my second assignment in GEMC1001, I chose the creative writing path. Before this, though—when I reflect on my major—I don’t often get the chance to be creative in that way. Most of my academic work is theoretical and structured, so this assignment felt like a shift in mindset as much as it was a shift in format.
That’s partly why I embraced creative writing when the opportunity arose—it allowed me to develop a skill rarely exercised in a strictly academic setting. Without relying on outside references—but after a really inspiring conversation with my Junior Fellow (and tutor) Rin—I drafted, refined, and completed a 3,288-word short story in five days.
In this Student Voice piece, I’ll walk through how I turned real news and research into creative inspiration, share some key lessons I learned about creative writing, and—above all—break down the techniques and insights that shaped my creative process.
Before I dive in, I want to give a heartfelt thanks to Rin, my Junior Fellow and GEMC tutor, for inviting me to share my story here.
For our second assignment in GEMC1001 (Term 1, 2025–26), we were asked to explore a chosen topic using the philosophical frameworks discussed in class.
Photo credit: Marjorie Wang
I selected a news article from the South China Morning Post titled “Hong Kong Arts Hub Cancels Gay-Themed Play Hours Before Tickets Go on Sale.” In short, the article reports that a major Hong Kong arts venue cancelled the LGBTQ-themed play We Are Gay roughly two hours before tickets were set to go on sale.
The organizers stated they had received a notice from the West Kowloon Cultural District Authority announcing the cancellation, though the letter provided no specific reason. They added that they would continue to communicate actively with the authorities. Prior to this, some complaints had alleged the play “defamed” Hong Kong.1 The incident sparked intense discussion locally and internationally within artistic, cultural, and LGBTQ+ advocacy circles, touching on broader issues like artistic freedom, social inclusion, and cultural policy.
Reading the article made something click for me. Those philosophical ideas we’d been talking about—Utilitarianism, Categorical Imperative, Virtue Ethics, Confucian ethics—didn’t have to stay as boring textbook theories. What if they could actually speak? What if they argued with each other? That’s when I thought: why not write a story instead?
Instead of another essay, I decided to create a fictional scene where these different philosophies become characters in someone’s head. I thought it’d be more interesting to read—and it’d show how messy real-life dilemmas can be, where there’s rarely a simple right or wrong, just hard choices between different values.
So I got started—in Chinese, my first language. I find it easier to brainstorm that way. I spent about half an hour scribbling an outline by hand, then fleshed it out section by section until I had a full draft: a nearly 6,000-word story about a mid-level staffer named Lucian who works at the West Kowloon Cultural District. On the night the play is cancelled, he finds himself wrestling with four inner voices, each representing one of the philosophical views and stakeholders. I picked the name Lucian because it means “light”—like a small glow you look for when things feel unclear.
Then came the editing. I went back to my outline and started cutting. I trimmed extra adjectives, tightened sentences, and kept rereading to make sure everything flowed and stayed meaningful.
But editing isn’t just cutting—it’s also adding. I brought in references to back up ideas, and dug deeper into the parts where the philosophies really clash, or where different sides of the debate come into tension.
By the third draft, I talked it through with my tutor. Her feedback helped me sharpen the ideas and structure. After that, I trimmed the word count where needed, double-checked references, and polished the formatting.
In the end, this process showed me how philosophy doesn’t have to stay on the page—it can live in a story, in a person’s doubts, in the quiet after a hard decision. And sometimes, writing it that way just makes more sense.
When writing this piece—which blended news reporting with philosophical reflection—I experimented with different narrative techniques to make academic content more readable and emotionally resonant. Below are some practical methods I found helpful, which might inspire you as well:
1. Classic Narrative Structure: From Context to Character
For narrative-driven writing—even in academic work—I’ve found a useful three-step opening structure:
Step 1: Set the event → Step 2: Introduce the character → Step 3: Build a layered persona
In my piece, I began by anchoring the reader in the core event: “The play We Are Gay was cancelled two hours before tickets went on sale.” I then built atmosphere by describing the office space and the noise of social media—immersing readers in the scene before they even met the protagonist.
The key step is character building. Rather than stating “the protagonist is complex,” I let details show his layers:
Image credit: https://media.wired.com/photos/5ea9f8cb2c6f04000a11a42f/3:2/w_2240,c_limit/Biz-cubicles-147075927.jpg
“In the cramped office, a long-cold latte, with a dull film of oil congealed on its surface, sat forgotten in the corner. On the coat rack by the door hung a newly bought trench coat—a murky olive green, costing him two months’ savings, bought from a vintage shop with a unisex style. Draped over it was a coarse-knit purple-and-black scarf and a beret, gifts from a lesbian friend, stylish to the point of being somewhat glaring. Hong Kong winters were cold; even when the temperature was above zero, the coldness always seeped into the bones.”
Together, these details—without any direct explanation—let the reader sense that he is someone with aesthetic sensibility, limited social status, community ties, and sensitivity to his environment. A character drawn this way naturally invites interest and empathy.
2. Everyday Moments: Small Actions, Big Emotions
Sometimes a simple moment can convey a complex social reality better than a long explanation. To express how overwhelming online debates can feel, I didn’t describe it outright—I wrote a short exchange with Siri:
““Hey Siri.”
“I’m here.”
“Mute.”
“Okay, I’ve muted.”
The world was finally quiet. Lucian leaned back in his chair, let out a long, deep breath, as if trying to exhale the electronic gunpowder smoke from those crossfires across the signal along with it.”
What makes this scene effective: almost everyone has had a “digital detox” moment like this; the deep breath is a natural reaction to stress, one that readers can feel themselves.
In under 60 words, this exchange conveys what might otherwise take paragraphs: the exhaustion of the information age, the intensity of clashing viewpoints, and the need for personal space amid the noise.
3. Dynamic Description: Giving Voice to Abstract Ideas
In the heart of the story, four philosophical perspectives clash as “voices” in the protagonist’s mind. How to keep theoretical debate from feeling dry? The key is to give emotion and tone to abstract concepts:
“Before the echo faded, the ‘internal memo’ on the desk seemed pierced by an invisible gaze, its pages quivering faintly. A voice, stern and toneless, spoke as if reciting a statute:”
-Tonal framing—“stern and toneless” sets an emotional tone before the argument even starts
-Figurative language—“as if reciting a statute” signals authority and inflexibility
When this voice later lays out deontological reasoning, the reader already senses its “personality”—not a friendly discussion, but a top-down declaration. This makes the conflict between philosophies not just theoretical, but emotional and stylistic, intensifying the tension.
4. Giving Your Reader Room to Breathe
Another thing is how you break up the text—spacing and pacing matter a lot. If you don’t want to overwhelm your reader, remember to use line breaks or slip in small moments of sensory detail or emotional reflection. It gives the reader room to breathe and keeps the reader from feeling buried in dense paragraphs.
The Core Idea
Ultimately, the principle behind these techniques is simple: no matter how abstract the theory, we’re always telling a story about people. By finding details, actions, and emotions that connect theoretical ideas to lived experience, academic writing can move beyond pure analysis and become an engaging journey of thought.
Reflections After Writing: Going Beyond "For" or "Against"
Through this assignment, I hoped to explore something much deeper than taking a simple "pro" or "anti" stance on a single issue or community.
This interdisciplinary writing experience taught me that academic exploration can take many forms. Sometimes, a thoughtfully crafted story can reveal the complexity of a problem more effectively than an analytical essay. When we let different values clash directly within a narrative, both the reader and the writer are pushed to temporarily set aside simplistic judgments and genuinely understand the internal logic and emotional foundation of each perspective.
In today’s increasingly polarized world, this capacity for understanding others—especially those whose perspectives differ from our own—may be more valuable than ever. Creative writing can be an ideal space to practice this skill: a space where we don’t need to provide immediate answers, but where we must learn to ask better questions and listen to more diverse voices.
A Note on Controversial Tools: AI in the Writing Process
In some situations—and in my own experience—I’ve found AI to be a helpful assistant, especially when brainstorming ideas, developing plot lines, or structuring content to create rhythm and balance in a narrative. However, it’s essential to note that the use of AI is not permitted in GEMC courses. Always check whether your specific assignment or course allows AI assistance before using it.
Final Reminders Before You Begin
Always confirm whether creative writing is allowed for your assignment.
Discuss your draft with your tutor or professor before submitting the final version. Don’t worry about whether they’ll “like” your style—what matters most is communicating your ideas clearly. Their feedback can provide fresh perspectives and even transform your work.
Communication often leads to clarity. In my case, talking through my ideas helped me refine my direction, structure, and formatting—making the final piece stronger and more focused.
If you are interested in reading my creative writing work for GEMC1001, or if you want to discuss creative writing, feel free to contact me by email at 1155251735@link.cuhk.edu.hk.
I am happy to discuss with you regarding creative writing and am open to any questions you may have!
Reference List
- Li, Ambrose, and Enid Tsui. “Hong Kong Arts Hub Cancels Gay-Themed Play Hours Before Tickets Go on Sale.” South China Morning Post, October 18, 2025. Updated October 18, 2025, 6:35pm. https://www.scmp.com/news/hong-kong/society/article/3329520/hong-kong-arts-hub-cancels-gay-themed-play-hours-tickets-go-sale.