Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Last Packet

I just sent my last packet out to my advisor. The semester has been rewarding and challenging. It could have been harder. I discovered that I could do enough reading if I pushed myself. But I hoe that during the break I can get ahead on some of the writing, because I think next semester may possibly kill me if I have a less understanding advisor.

I think I will get my feedback early because I sent things in by email, so I won't have to wait for the slowness of snail mail to get stuff back.

I'm going to try my hand at a couple of short stories over the semester break, see if I can send some stuff out. That's the problem with writing a novel: there's nothing to send out for a really long time.

OK, I just realized that in my haste to get my work done, I've barely eaten today. I'm started to feel faint. Better make myself some dinner. And then I can read anything I want!!! Yay!

Saturday, November 10, 2007

Proper Blogging

I've started to pay attention to the blogs of my classmates who actually write about things other than how crushed they are by their advisor's comments or how great they feel when people like their writing. And I've started to feel like a freak. heh.

So I guess it's time for me to write about more serious things here. Thus my last post, which was a rather lame attempt to write about something of substance. In the end, I realized I didn't actually have that much to say about that particular topic. One of the reasons why I've resisted writing about things of substance here is that I have some rather controversial opinions. And I don't consider myself any sort of expert about how to write. I think I'm just lucky to have a good imagination and enough persistence and love of words and stories that I just keep revising until my wacky ideas make some sort of sense.

One thing of substance that I feel good writing about though is how a writer of fiction can make an impact in the world. There are the obvious ways: The sharing and expanding of ideas creates an intellectual ripple across and sometimes even beyond a society. But on a smaller scale, a writer can make a difference by sharing the joy of creation.

Education is important. People raise their standards of living when they get more education. It isn't surprising, then, that those who can't read and write are likely to be poor. Well, recently I volunteered to teach some writing workshops for a literacy organization. My hope is to help people see that they can write their own stories and by giving them that knowledge, help the newly literate overcome the challenges of reading and writing fluently. For those of us lucky enough to have learned to read at a young age, it probably doesn't seem that difficult. But for adults who are just learning to read, it requires endurance.

Friday, November 9, 2007

On Becoming a Writer

I'm no expert, so I can only give my opinion about what the experts say. The experts--not to use the ambiguous "they"--are writers of note and teachers of writing and, arguably, critics.

There are two universal things that these people say about learning to write good, meaningful fiction.

1. Read.
2. Write.

It's that simple, and that complicated.

One caveat could be added to number 1. That is, be careful what you read. It will influence the way you write and the way you think.

So why is going to school, getting an advanced degree in writing useful? Why can't anyone become a writer just by following these two steps. It's clearly possible to become a writer without going to school. Many people have done so, probably most writers of note, in fact. But school provides a few advantages, so for those who pooh pooh the idea of an MFA in writing, here's what I am getting out of my schooling.

It's true that I could read books on my own and did, of course, and still do. It's true that I could write on my own, and I did that, too. But in spite of years of practice, I lacked confidence in my work. My confidence has grown immensely under the tutelage of professional literary writers and in the company of others who love books and writing. I have seen that I fit into the world of people with imagination who can sit for hours and spin a story for the joy of it. I have seen that in the judgment of others, the words that end up on paper when I am done, are for the most part interesting and worth reading. And, very importantly, I have gained perspective by listening to others talk about my writing and yreading the writing of others who are working to become writers. It's somehow easier to see your own errors when you see them in the work of someone else first.

Of course, as Robert Peake said somewhere on his blog, an MFA program is what you make it. If you just skim by and do the minimum you can, your degree will be a piece of paper with words on it. (OK, I'm paraphrasing him. He didn't really say that exact thing.) But if you decide that you really want to get the most out of it that you can, an MFA can be a series of mentorships with great writers. It can teach you to fish and introduce you to a community of fisherpeople who will help you get up every morning for the rest of your life and get in the boat. Once you're there, there's a good chance you will catch some fish.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

When it's good, it's very good...

The way the story seems to come out is unpredictable. Sometimes it feels hopeless, almost torturous. Sometimes a first draft is just the vaguest possible idea of an idea. And when I read it back, it's obviously crap. These kinds of drafts go in one of two directions. The first direction is that they get thrown out. The second direction is that they get revised, added to, things get moved around in them, new ideas--each one like flower blooming in a sparse garden--sprouting up, being sketched and then painted, a step at a time.

Much rarer is the first draft that is born whole, in need of very few revisions, or at least where a large section of it comes at once, from nothing. Of course, it doesn't really come from nothing. It comes from a lot of things that have been building up in my head for days or weeks or even months (and sometimes years). But then without a lot of struggle, it's just suddenly popped out. Those are the times I love writing the most. Those are the times when I know that this is something I need to do.

It happened last night and I can see in the events of the past few weeks, what forces made it happen. I wrote the second to the last chapter last night, or at least a good portion of it. I had been thinkng about it for a couple of days and had some good ideas when I couldn't sleep at 4 a.m. Marc wasn't home in the evening and I was writing. I got stuck at one point, but I allowed myself not to obsess about the sticking point, skipped over it and wrote on. I always feel like an emotional scene is working when it makes me cry as I'm writing it. I am kind of a drama queen, but good books and good movies make me cry and unbelievable and bad ones don't. The only dilemma with this in a person's own writing is making sure that what the writer is getting out of the writing is what a reader will get out of it.

Anyway, I am taking it to writers' group tonight and having read it aloud to Marc last night, I know that I am going to struggle not to cry when I get to the sad part.

I was wishing it was easier to get to that place in my head, that it wouldn't be such a rare occurrence. Well, coincidentally today Jon posted something on the MFA student caffe board about a book that I think might be helpful. So I ordered it. It's called Becoming a Writer by Dorothea Brande. It's a book written in the thirties, but the feedback about it makes it seem like it's the perfect thing to help a writer get inside her own head. Just the ticket.