NYC XYZ
2005-12-01 21:29:29 UTC
Yup, you heard it here first!
!) No more "round tables"...not only are people not equal (that is, in
the same league in terms of technical ability and passion to excel),
which such a formation aims to pretend, but facing one another makes
for a more "personal" experience than needs be -- by which term
"personal" I mean that people take things personally, they take
criticism personally, like you're attacking their baby or their
religion (etc.) -- for we debate IDEAS, not people, and thus it
shouldn't matter who wrote what.
2) Therefore, all pieces workshopped should be ANONYMOUS to further
discourage the formation of cliques and egotism. Everyone gives their
opinion as before, but we never find out who wrote what because it
shouldn't matter who wrote what and what they intended. The piece
should be able to stand on its own and speak for itself -- and if it
doesn't, the workshop notes where and why not. But having the author
explain his/her intentions is silly...you simply can't critique the
half-baked because the rejoinder is inevitably "well, it's just a
draft" (doh!)...to discourage such a cop-out, and to even further
discourage "personality conflicts" we simply make our statements and
leave it at that. The writer comments like everyone else, only it is
never announced (though an immature personality can easily give
him/herself away) that the piece is his/hers.
3) Everyone reads John Gardner's "Art of Fiction" and Dana Gioia's "Can
Poetry Matter?" as well as B.R. Meyers' "A Reader's Manifesto" no later
than Creative Writing 201 -- and the instructor assigning it as
reference otherwise. This is so that the workshop doesn't turn into a
game of Three Blind Men and an Elephant, so that we don't wind up with
a blind-leading-the-blind situation. One must understand, if not also
master, the basics before we launch off into the great beyond -- those
texts serve as springboards from which one may dive into the depths of
creative writing. It is a lazy conceit that one simply writes -- this
is almost like saying one simply sits at the piano and bangs away at
keys: just because one's been signing one's name since age four does
not one a writer make. Pedantic? Hardly. Like muscles which work in
opposition/tandem, a writer needs to be aware of the tradition of what
has gone before, needs to be aware in a systematic way. Like an
actress whose own power is brought out by the interaction with another
actor, so too does a writer react to that which is outside him or
herself. It's a dangerous pedagogy which romanticizes writing as some
mysterious spark within a person, the logical extension of which
sentiment leads to the "whatever's clever" attitude, a laid-back yawn
of an effort. In a word: craftsmanship! For the introductory
101-level, Janet Burroway's "Imaginative Writing : The Elements of
Craft" is a good workhorse reference that's full of nice examples that
should stimulate the juices of any honestly eager go-getter.
4) Thus, much more time should be spent on theory -- not the
propagation of any particular theory, but on examing, philosophically a
la the Socratic Method of law school, the underlying theory
demonstrated by a piece. For whether one can articulate it or is even
aware of it, we all each have theories of writing in effect -- our
aesthetic sensibilities inform all that we decide. Instead of ignoring
the pink elephant in the middle of the room, let's talk about it. It
does no good to question the particular tactic (gerund here as opposed
to infinitive, say) without being aware of the wider strategy the
writer deploys (again, whether consciously or un-). Too many workshops
operate like a bunch of chefs poring over one pot, each calling for a
"whachamacallit" here and the "thinggamajig" there.
5) Part of the "theory" portion (which, depending on the relative
experience of the group as a whole, will vary in length from two weeks
to a month-and-a-half of hungry effort) should recognize the role of
semantics and what an incredible effect it has on everyday
communications, much less within the realm of fiction. Depending on
the group and other related factors, poetry ought to be sampled (e.g.,
Beth Ann Fennelly's "The Snake Charmer" for how to write about love
without cliche), and even Zen Buddhism with its epistemological and
ontological concerns broached.
6) The instructor should make it explicitly clear right from the outset
that the workshop is not an occasion for group therapy, self-help, etc.
While beneficial side effects, they become a degenerative force if
made the aim of a workshop, whether intentionally or otherwise. Not
only intellectual rigor needs to be injected, but a sense of
professionalism and the aforementioned craftsmanship! Many writers
forget that their first purpose is not to "express themselves" or "work
out their issues" but to ENTERTAIN! Even if you offend someone, it's
better than having had no effect beyond a "oh, that's nice...yeah, I
liked it."
We hit the bull's eye by aiming for it.
QVAERENDO INVENIETIS
!) No more "round tables"...not only are people not equal (that is, in
the same league in terms of technical ability and passion to excel),
which such a formation aims to pretend, but facing one another makes
for a more "personal" experience than needs be -- by which term
"personal" I mean that people take things personally, they take
criticism personally, like you're attacking their baby or their
religion (etc.) -- for we debate IDEAS, not people, and thus it
shouldn't matter who wrote what.
2) Therefore, all pieces workshopped should be ANONYMOUS to further
discourage the formation of cliques and egotism. Everyone gives their
opinion as before, but we never find out who wrote what because it
shouldn't matter who wrote what and what they intended. The piece
should be able to stand on its own and speak for itself -- and if it
doesn't, the workshop notes where and why not. But having the author
explain his/her intentions is silly...you simply can't critique the
half-baked because the rejoinder is inevitably "well, it's just a
draft" (doh!)...to discourage such a cop-out, and to even further
discourage "personality conflicts" we simply make our statements and
leave it at that. The writer comments like everyone else, only it is
never announced (though an immature personality can easily give
him/herself away) that the piece is his/hers.
3) Everyone reads John Gardner's "Art of Fiction" and Dana Gioia's "Can
Poetry Matter?" as well as B.R. Meyers' "A Reader's Manifesto" no later
than Creative Writing 201 -- and the instructor assigning it as
reference otherwise. This is so that the workshop doesn't turn into a
game of Three Blind Men and an Elephant, so that we don't wind up with
a blind-leading-the-blind situation. One must understand, if not also
master, the basics before we launch off into the great beyond -- those
texts serve as springboards from which one may dive into the depths of
creative writing. It is a lazy conceit that one simply writes -- this
is almost like saying one simply sits at the piano and bangs away at
keys: just because one's been signing one's name since age four does
not one a writer make. Pedantic? Hardly. Like muscles which work in
opposition/tandem, a writer needs to be aware of the tradition of what
has gone before, needs to be aware in a systematic way. Like an
actress whose own power is brought out by the interaction with another
actor, so too does a writer react to that which is outside him or
herself. It's a dangerous pedagogy which romanticizes writing as some
mysterious spark within a person, the logical extension of which
sentiment leads to the "whatever's clever" attitude, a laid-back yawn
of an effort. In a word: craftsmanship! For the introductory
101-level, Janet Burroway's "Imaginative Writing : The Elements of
Craft" is a good workhorse reference that's full of nice examples that
should stimulate the juices of any honestly eager go-getter.
4) Thus, much more time should be spent on theory -- not the
propagation of any particular theory, but on examing, philosophically a
la the Socratic Method of law school, the underlying theory
demonstrated by a piece. For whether one can articulate it or is even
aware of it, we all each have theories of writing in effect -- our
aesthetic sensibilities inform all that we decide. Instead of ignoring
the pink elephant in the middle of the room, let's talk about it. It
does no good to question the particular tactic (gerund here as opposed
to infinitive, say) without being aware of the wider strategy the
writer deploys (again, whether consciously or un-). Too many workshops
operate like a bunch of chefs poring over one pot, each calling for a
"whachamacallit" here and the "thinggamajig" there.
5) Part of the "theory" portion (which, depending on the relative
experience of the group as a whole, will vary in length from two weeks
to a month-and-a-half of hungry effort) should recognize the role of
semantics and what an incredible effect it has on everyday
communications, much less within the realm of fiction. Depending on
the group and other related factors, poetry ought to be sampled (e.g.,
Beth Ann Fennelly's "The Snake Charmer" for how to write about love
without cliche), and even Zen Buddhism with its epistemological and
ontological concerns broached.
6) The instructor should make it explicitly clear right from the outset
that the workshop is not an occasion for group therapy, self-help, etc.
While beneficial side effects, they become a degenerative force if
made the aim of a workshop, whether intentionally or otherwise. Not
only intellectual rigor needs to be injected, but a sense of
professionalism and the aforementioned craftsmanship! Many writers
forget that their first purpose is not to "express themselves" or "work
out their issues" but to ENTERTAIN! Even if you offend someone, it's
better than having had no effect beyond a "oh, that's nice...yeah, I
liked it."
We hit the bull's eye by aiming for it.
QVAERENDO INVENIETIS