You would think that, after talking about week one, I'd be quick to speak about week two. But week two, well, week two is a hard one for me to talk about.
Without going into much exhaustive boring detail, I credit Neil Gaiman's work with pulling me out of a deep and abiding depression. Specifically, after reading Smoke & Mirrors, I finally admitted to myself that writing was important to me, was what I wanted to do with my life. And admitting that allowed me to start working toward a goal I actually believed in.
But you don't care about that.
What's he like, you're wondering.
What'd you learn, you want to ask.
I know I would, if our positions reversed.
Well, let me reassure you. Neil Gaiman is every bit as kind as he seems. He rescued my seagull mug after I nervously mumbled to him about it. He's also a funny, blunt, and demanding teacher. Tragically, almost our whole class decided to try something ambitious and experimental for Neil's week. Results were... mixed.
My results were sort of dismal.
Neil talked to us about tables, and how it wasn't enough to pretend to build a table, by, say, building something with two legs and getting some trick mirrors in place. You needed to build an actual table, something stable, something you could set things on without having them roll off again.
He also talked to us about how the best writing is honest and exposed. He told us that negative feedback should hurt, that there should be enough of ourselves in our stories to allow it to hurt. You can blame that comment for the agony of reading through Matchless the next week, comrades.
So, was Neil's week everything I expected?
No. It was something entirely different than that. Better and truer and harder. Which is how life is, I think.
I did learn valuable things about writing. About putting the story first and putting myself in the story. About putting enough in the story that a reader is rewarded for looking a second time.
I learned even more valuable things about me, or about life. Those bits are harder explain. But once you've embarrassed yourself, repeatedly, in front of a hero, the world in general seems a little less embarrassing. And that's a good thing, I think. So is watching the hero bits flake off bit by bit, until you're just hanging out with a person. A person you admire and respect, but a person all the same.
I didn't do my best work in week two. I wish I could say I was impressive and sparkling but I was nervous, slightly hysterical and my story lacked a heart. I kept going anyway. That's what you do. You keep going.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Friday, November 15, 2013
The Lively Spirit of Elizabeth Hand
It's November, and here I am, finally attempting to talk about week one of Clarion West. It's hard, I think, in a lot of ways, to talk about the experience. Mostly, because CW is 100% about the people you work beside, and I'm simply not willing to discuss my friendships with my classmates. But also because it's so big, and words are so small. I guess that's the problem in general.
But here I am, trying to write about it. Because I read CW blogs obsessively before I attended. And because, even if I can't share the experience, I can perhaps share a little about what I learned.
CW week one was Elizabeth Hand's week. She was to be our first instructor, the one to initiate us in the mysteries awaiting us.
Sunday afternoon, we gathered in the classroom for the first time. And there's Liz. Beautiful and cool, charming from first word to last.
She had us do an exercise, each of us using the same two lines of dialogue to write stories in randomly chosen genres. We turned them in anonymously, traded them around, and read them out loud to each other. All of us nervous. All of us laughing.
Few of us wrote quite so well again as we did on that first week with Liz, and her brilliant husband John Clute, at the helm. She had this magic way about her, this way of making us unself-conscious and eager, willing to go beyond our own capabilities and be amazing.
She taught us to dig deep, to take out our hearts and put them on paper. She taught us about fictionalizing pain, or pleasure, about the power of reading out loud and connecting. We wrote our fears or our loves or our weaknesses, and we read them to each other, terrified and giddy.
Liz set the tone for the whole six weeks, by urging us to be both honest and raw, by finding our strengths and letting us share them with each other.
John taught us a lot as well. That man is scary smart. I took notes until my hand fell off. He talked about looking to the root of things. About being aware of influence. And about the power and the danger of metaphor in fantasy.
What I learned in Week One:
Write with emotional sincerity.
My classmates are amazing.
Be a good physician.
Be careful with metaphor.
But here I am, trying to write about it. Because I read CW blogs obsessively before I attended. And because, even if I can't share the experience, I can perhaps share a little about what I learned.
CW week one was Elizabeth Hand's week. She was to be our first instructor, the one to initiate us in the mysteries awaiting us.
Sunday afternoon, we gathered in the classroom for the first time. And there's Liz. Beautiful and cool, charming from first word to last.
She had us do an exercise, each of us using the same two lines of dialogue to write stories in randomly chosen genres. We turned them in anonymously, traded them around, and read them out loud to each other. All of us nervous. All of us laughing.
Few of us wrote quite so well again as we did on that first week with Liz, and her brilliant husband John Clute, at the helm. She had this magic way about her, this way of making us unself-conscious and eager, willing to go beyond our own capabilities and be amazing.
She taught us to dig deep, to take out our hearts and put them on paper. She taught us about fictionalizing pain, or pleasure, about the power of reading out loud and connecting. We wrote our fears or our loves or our weaknesses, and we read them to each other, terrified and giddy.
Liz set the tone for the whole six weeks, by urging us to be both honest and raw, by finding our strengths and letting us share them with each other.
John taught us a lot as well. That man is scary smart. I took notes until my hand fell off. He talked about looking to the root of things. About being aware of influence. And about the power and the danger of metaphor in fantasy.
What I learned in Week One:
Write with emotional sincerity.
My classmates are amazing.
Be a good physician.
Be careful with metaphor.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Post-Game Analysis
What I should be writing is a weekly account of my adventures in hopes that future classes, if they wish, can benefit from my experiences. And I will, I think. I took notes to make that possible. But as I've stated before, this blog exists primarily so that I can get my own head straight. Right now, I want to talk about big picture stuff.
Clarion West is over. I'm done. I survived. I wrote six stories. I read and critiqued the endless stream of brilliant words my classmates chose to share with me. Said classmates were excellent. A group of talented, funny, and very different individuals. Some wrote the sort of stuff I love to read. Others wrote stuff I never would have read on my own but which I was glad for the opportunity to experience. They were, in the end, my best teachers. I hope I was of some small use to them as well.
So, have I changed? Am I this stronger, faster, smarter version of my weak, slow and dumb pre-Clarion West self? Well, no. Of course not. Clarion West is not magic. It is, in fact, a very intense writing workshop. It changes you in the ways that very intense writing workshops change you. But yes. I've changed. In some ways I recognize and in others I think it will take me time to understand.
I am more optimistic and more driven about my writing than I was before CW. This is the biggest and most valuable change for me. It isn't enough, anymore, for me to write my stories and fiddle with my novel and occasionally, every six months or so, send something out to be rejected. I want more than that. I want to sell my book. I want to sell stories. I want to get rejections, as many as needed, so that people will look up and see me and notice what I'm doing and what I have to say.
This may seem insignificant to anyone who doesn't know me but let me assure you, optimism is not my mode. Hope is not something I do. Try is not a word in my vocabulary. Give up ahead of time is more my style. But I am going to change that, I'm going to make an effort and I'm going to push myself and it's going to be terrifying and people will probably hate me but I don't care. I have to do this. It's important.
As for the sort of changes future applicants are actually interested in, yes, I am a better writer after CW. Not in a huge way. Not necessarily in a way that would allow someone to look at a pre-CW piece and tell it from a post-CW piece, though I could. It's changed how I think about writing. Maybe it's allowed me to think about writing. There were things we discussed that I understood intuitively but which, once explained, I could consciously apply and check for in my stories. And there were things discussed that I never really thought about. My mind is now full of lovely writing metaphors that no one but myself and my classmates will ever understand.
Would I recommend it? Yes, with qualifications. Yes, if you can take that sort of pressure. Yes, if you are open to learning from writers who are at your level or only just above you in skill (your classmates are your main teachers). Yes, if you can be humble. Yes, if you can accept that there will be people in your class you disagree with, every week. Yes, if you can accept that not everyone is good at giving criticism gently and your feelings will get hurt. Yes, if you understand that CW is not magic, it is only very focused. Yes, if you have a sense of humor.
I will write about the individual weeks, soon. But it won't be particularly valuable. Clarion West is about the people, and I don't intend to blog about my classmates. Those experiences are ours and I don't feel comfortable giving them away. It was laughter and giddy excitement and self-doubt and tears. I made friends and I hope a few of those friendships will last. I am grateful for the opportunity.
Clarion West is over. I'm done. I survived. I wrote six stories. I read and critiqued the endless stream of brilliant words my classmates chose to share with me. Said classmates were excellent. A group of talented, funny, and very different individuals. Some wrote the sort of stuff I love to read. Others wrote stuff I never would have read on my own but which I was glad for the opportunity to experience. They were, in the end, my best teachers. I hope I was of some small use to them as well.
So, have I changed? Am I this stronger, faster, smarter version of my weak, slow and dumb pre-Clarion West self? Well, no. Of course not. Clarion West is not magic. It is, in fact, a very intense writing workshop. It changes you in the ways that very intense writing workshops change you. But yes. I've changed. In some ways I recognize and in others I think it will take me time to understand.
I am more optimistic and more driven about my writing than I was before CW. This is the biggest and most valuable change for me. It isn't enough, anymore, for me to write my stories and fiddle with my novel and occasionally, every six months or so, send something out to be rejected. I want more than that. I want to sell my book. I want to sell stories. I want to get rejections, as many as needed, so that people will look up and see me and notice what I'm doing and what I have to say.
This may seem insignificant to anyone who doesn't know me but let me assure you, optimism is not my mode. Hope is not something I do. Try is not a word in my vocabulary. Give up ahead of time is more my style. But I am going to change that, I'm going to make an effort and I'm going to push myself and it's going to be terrifying and people will probably hate me but I don't care. I have to do this. It's important.
As for the sort of changes future applicants are actually interested in, yes, I am a better writer after CW. Not in a huge way. Not necessarily in a way that would allow someone to look at a pre-CW piece and tell it from a post-CW piece, though I could. It's changed how I think about writing. Maybe it's allowed me to think about writing. There were things we discussed that I understood intuitively but which, once explained, I could consciously apply and check for in my stories. And there were things discussed that I never really thought about. My mind is now full of lovely writing metaphors that no one but myself and my classmates will ever understand.
Would I recommend it? Yes, with qualifications. Yes, if you can take that sort of pressure. Yes, if you are open to learning from writers who are at your level or only just above you in skill (your classmates are your main teachers). Yes, if you can be humble. Yes, if you can accept that there will be people in your class you disagree with, every week. Yes, if you can accept that not everyone is good at giving criticism gently and your feelings will get hurt. Yes, if you understand that CW is not magic, it is only very focused. Yes, if you have a sense of humor.
I will write about the individual weeks, soon. But it won't be particularly valuable. Clarion West is about the people, and I don't intend to blog about my classmates. Those experiences are ours and I don't feel comfortable giving them away. It was laughter and giddy excitement and self-doubt and tears. I made friends and I hope a few of those friendships will last. I am grateful for the opportunity.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Lockdown
I wanted to post tonight.
I wanted to post tonight because it's the last night.
It's the last night.
If tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life, does that mean tonight is the last day of my life as it is?
Is that a good thing?
I like my life.
I'm not good at wanting, at being excited. I've talked about that here. And sometimes, that means positive reinforcement sends me spiraling toward depression. And sometimes it means my emotions lock down. That's where I am now. Locked down. Too nervous to think or feel or want.
I'll probably start crying eventually. Out of joy and sadness and worry. But not yet. For now, I'm just doing. I'm packed. The muffins are done. There are, randomly, 64 bagels in the freezer. I may offer everyone some, but, then again, they're frozen. So maybe that's a dumb idea.
I think, somewhere deep, my heart is shivering.
I wanted to post tonight because it's the last night.
It's the last night.
If tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life, does that mean tonight is the last day of my life as it is?
Is that a good thing?
I like my life.
I'm not good at wanting, at being excited. I've talked about that here. And sometimes, that means positive reinforcement sends me spiraling toward depression. And sometimes it means my emotions lock down. That's where I am now. Locked down. Too nervous to think or feel or want.
I'll probably start crying eventually. Out of joy and sadness and worry. But not yet. For now, I'm just doing. I'm packed. The muffins are done. There are, randomly, 64 bagels in the freezer. I may offer everyone some, but, then again, they're frozen. So maybe that's a dumb idea.
I think, somewhere deep, my heart is shivering.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Muffins
Moving steadily into a state of quiet but enduring panic. Less Clarion and more the simple idea of leaving Sean behind.
Also Clarion, though.
I'm picking out muffins for him to bake next week. Muffins mean time apart, and him trying to see that I eat in that time. He used to make a batch of muffins every week for me to take back with me to college.
Yes. He did. He's that good.
Muffins make me want to cry.
Also Clarion, though.
I'm picking out muffins for him to bake next week. Muffins mean time apart, and him trying to see that I eat in that time. He used to make a batch of muffins every week for me to take back with me to college.
Yes. He did. He's that good.
Muffins make me want to cry.
Sunday, June 9, 2013
Less than two weeks to go!
It's the ninth.
My last day of work is the 21st. I know a lot of my classmates are going nuts, trying to finish up work projects, get packed, and generally prepare to move to Seattle for six weeks. I don't have that problem. Work is as busy as it is. I'm too small a cog to have projects. There's the move, of course, but I have no control over when that happens. It was supposed to happen last week, but we're still in the same old digs. As for moving, well, I'm moving like, two miles. It's not a huge concern. If I need anything, I'll just have Sean run it over.
At this point, I have nine work days left, total. Three days off. Weds, Sun, Weds. Five days of listing. Two days of floating. Two days of mail.
I'm worried about dumb things now. I'm worried about not having read as many of the books on my 'before Clarion' list as I'd hoped. I still have a little time but not much. I'm worried about which of my stuffed animals to bring (probably all my squishables plus Wolfie, of course). I'm worried about how I'm going to find everyone at the airport. That last one is especially dumb. But, see, I understand the airport. Picking people up from the airport is an activity I have engaged in before.
Clarion is this big wall of mystery and OMG that starts right after the airport ends. So, airport worry it is.
In other news, I got a rejection from Clarkesworld the other day. Not even a good rejection from Clarkesworld. Ahh, well. Onward!
My last day of work is the 21st. I know a lot of my classmates are going nuts, trying to finish up work projects, get packed, and generally prepare to move to Seattle for six weeks. I don't have that problem. Work is as busy as it is. I'm too small a cog to have projects. There's the move, of course, but I have no control over when that happens. It was supposed to happen last week, but we're still in the same old digs. As for moving, well, I'm moving like, two miles. It's not a huge concern. If I need anything, I'll just have Sean run it over.
At this point, I have nine work days left, total. Three days off. Weds, Sun, Weds. Five days of listing. Two days of floating. Two days of mail.
I'm worried about dumb things now. I'm worried about not having read as many of the books on my 'before Clarion' list as I'd hoped. I still have a little time but not much. I'm worried about which of my stuffed animals to bring (probably all my squishables plus Wolfie, of course). I'm worried about how I'm going to find everyone at the airport. That last one is especially dumb. But, see, I understand the airport. Picking people up from the airport is an activity I have engaged in before.
Clarion is this big wall of mystery and OMG that starts right after the airport ends. So, airport worry it is.
In other news, I got a rejection from Clarkesworld the other day. Not even a good rejection from Clarkesworld. Ahh, well. Onward!
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Lists
Math first (last weeks was a bit off): Four more mail days. Three more Boy days. Three more family Saturdays. Three more days as a Floater. Ten more days of listing. Twenty-three more days of panic (not counting today).
I've been thinking I should make a packing list, but I'm also sort of incapable of it. Sean'll be so close, I'll be able to get anything I need, so I can't bring myself to worry.
But, generally, I'll need:
A week's worth of clothes. (Include at least one fancier outfit, just because)
Stuffed Animals
Laptop and Charger
Headphones
MP3 Player
Meds
Notebook/pens/pencils
Paper? (I have no idea what the printing and such situation is, will have to check the packet again)
Headset
Muffins (Yes, muffins)
Instructors' Books
Sheets/blankets/pillow
Towel
PSP (I'm sure I'll have not time for it)
Idea Notebook
Toiletries (Toothbrush/paste, brush, bodywash, shampoo, facewash)
'Questions' book (dumb, but amusing, to me at least)
Phone
Wallet
Fan? Maybe... I don't usually like fans. In fact, I kind of hate them.
That's all I can think of just now. Maybe more will come to me over time. But, like I said, I can just have Sean drive down anything I'm missing, or pick it up in the U District.
I've been thinking I should make a packing list, but I'm also sort of incapable of it. Sean'll be so close, I'll be able to get anything I need, so I can't bring myself to worry.
But, generally, I'll need:
A week's worth of clothes. (Include at least one fancier outfit, just because)
Stuffed Animals
Laptop and Charger
Headphones
MP3 Player
Meds
Notebook/pens/pencils
Paper? (I have no idea what the printing and such situation is, will have to check the packet again)
Headset
Muffins (Yes, muffins)
Instructors' Books
Sheets/blankets/pillow
Towel
PSP (I'm sure I'll have not time for it)
Idea Notebook
Toiletries (Toothbrush/paste, brush, bodywash, shampoo, facewash)
'Questions' book (dumb, but amusing, to me at least)
Phone
Wallet
Fan? Maybe... I don't usually like fans. In fact, I kind of hate them.
That's all I can think of just now. Maybe more will come to me over time. But, like I said, I can just have Sean drive down anything I'm missing, or pick it up in the U District.
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