So I met with a student today to talk about a story of hers or his that was workshopped on Tuesday. Yes, I'm privileged. But it comes with some responsibility, some serious responsibility, like when you see what a student is capable of and you start to consider the potential influence you may have and, in the best, most humbly capable moment, despite his or her having no aspirations whatsoever for a writing life, decide that he or she needs to be encouraged, stoked, need I say inspired to tell the truth, and then something inside you crumbles. A little bit. It's sad. And exciting. Right? If not, then it's just another kid who needs a degree, and creative writing is nothing more than college writing is nothing more or less than biology or philosophy or dance.
So I sent this person an afterthought email, kind of like Dago was famous for after a workshop. And it was this wonderful purge where I got to talk about writing, specific to a story and author, and I pressed send without caring what the student would think but knowing that it had felt good to write it - that it was honest, that it had helped me to write it - and to send it, to communicate about writing. I guess what I'm saying is, can we all talk about writing again? Concretely. Because I miss it even though I'm talking about it, and doing it and living it, however clumsily and resentfully. This (writing, reading), I think, is the only thing that's real. I tell my students that Story is my religion, like any other, and most of them look at me like I'm insane. Is it not? Can you serve two masters? If I could take a graduate degree in myth or story right now, then I would, but I'm afraid I already have. Will you guys tell me I'm crazy? Or help. Until then, I'll continue to follow my own, and do as I've suddenly started preaching: lie, fantasize, dream, wonder, fear, risk, change, fight, surrender. Guided reading, solitary living, boingo boingo fun fun!, yearn for more discipline (DEADLINES!), fuck it all and do nothing. And in doing nothing know what's possible. Hope for guidance.
I mean I'm happy, I'm okay. It's all good! How are you?
p.s. i love lurkers who don't comment! voyeurz rok, but exhibitionists do it better!
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7 comments:
Somehow, I've become shy about this. But I'm feeling you, molfe.
And here's my thing. I'm stuck. I'm still living in one story A YEAR after it's been started. I need someone to help me. Multiple people. Basically, I need a workshop on a second (though still uninished) draft.
Abby has agreed to look at it. Who else will talk about it with me? I'll send it to you, it can be online, or over a beer. I just need help.
And I want to be helpful, too, if you want me to.
"I guess what I'm saying is, can we all talk about writing again? Concretely. Because I miss it even though I'm talking about it, and doing it and living it, however clumsily and resentfully."
I totally agree. You are not crazy. Well, no more than any of us are. I would like to do this as well. Perhaps we could start a Google Group and post our stories and such over there. Do an online reading (i hate to say workshop, like we're over it, but maybe not?)
My writing has been such a pain in my ass. I feel ALL THIS PRESSURE to write a genius novel. And, since I only teach three days a week, I feel like I should be gettin some serious work done, but no. I freeze up. I came to a realization a few days ago that I need to stop that, and start writing short 1-2 page pieces until I feel inspired again to take it for a longer ride. Does that make sense? I am literally forcing creativity and it is not working. Is that how others are feeling?
I guess it doesn't really matter. I am just having the hardest time relaxing and finding new inspiration. A new muse if you will . . .
I love you all dearly!!!
I feel similarly. All the pressure was making me crazy the first semester out of the program, and this semester the most useful writing I've done has been revisions. But recently I committed to a short, my first, seeing as I tend towards the longer story/novella stuff. But everytime I look at it, I'm excited. Not because it "works" or I think it's going to take the literary world by storm, but because it's short. That's all. and it makes me happy. Should I have done more writing--probably, but I'll take my jollys where I can get them.
I'll always read anybody's work. Um, I mean anybody as in you guys.
class love, woot, woot.
I'm editing down shorts to exactly 75 words for no good reason. I'm generating stories until they're 65% complete, determining their fatal flaw, and dumping them. I'm churning out story after story about women who eat their own hair. I'm totally in the woods right now. But these times in the woods are when we find that next step, right? Either that or we die out here.
(that was only 67 words, here's the rest)
Several times a week, I take two hour running starts at stories and do the same the next day
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