Winter started today. Friday the temperature reached sixty-six degrees, so the shift was overdue. Nothing worse than Florida weather at a Jersey elevation. Might even see some snow overnight. Good times.
The surrender mantra whilst writing helped quite a bit this weekend; I chanted it often. Funny how the simplest tokens often make the biggest differences in productivity.
Though I planned alternating between a brand new project and another manuscript shelved last January, after a few false starts with the abandoned tale earlier in the week, I decided to let the story roll on longer. While the ending exists on paper, as it has from nearly the beginning, I have no idea how to reach that point. The fun is letting the characters drive there, instead of placing them in a car on a collision course with their nemesis, scene after scene.
Saturday night a faculty member celebrated a birthday and marked the occasion with a party on campus. Talking to another faculty member–this one working on a MFA in Creative Writing–I remembered why I’m so poorly suited for formal instruction, as I avoid analytic or critique based discussions about what I love above all. I’d rather write–even badly–than figure out what the hell a writer meant by their work or how their catalog stacks up against the masters.
This is not to suggest that creative writing instruction is foolish, or unnecessary. Certainly teachers must demonstrate proficiency in those areas. How else can they lead inspiring discussion if they themselves do not have the tools for devising them? For a writing instructor to draw from the critical process makes sense. For me the prospect is not very palatable.
I’m no writing teacher, is all I’m saying.
From a recent Stephen King essay:
“I’m often asked if writing classes are any help, and my immediate and enthusiastic answer is always, Yes! Writing classes are wonderful for the writers who teach them and can’t make ends meet without that supplementary income. They are also good places for unattached people to meet, talk about books and movies, have a few drinks and possibly hook up. But teach you to write? No. A writing class will not teach you to write. The only things that can teach writing are reading, writing and the semi-domestication of one’s muse. These are all activities one must pursue alone.”
I wholeheartedly agree. If I ever “make it,” I won’t be attributing my success to any writing workshop or, God forbid, a reading circle. I’ll be thanking my hard work and the support of my family and friends.
I suppose some people find those kinds of social exercises useful, but I think of those who partake in such activities as “hobby writers.” The man or woman who sets aside a half an hour every week to sit down at his/her desk and open up the leatherbound notebook that their spouse got for them to record the treasures that blossom from their imaginations.
Can’t argue with the King.
The only thing to note is that a few programs have spawned great writers, including: John Irving and Tobias Wolff.
Maybe the question is, did those individuals succeed in spite of their formalized training, or did the instruction help them in some way? I guess one could argue that gaining entry to such programs demonstrated competency in the first place, and therefore what gains they made in the classes were due their talents and hard work.