MajKai Nis
(?)Community Member
- Posted: Wed, 18 Oct 2006 19:45:07 +0000
Let's examine some of the myths commonly presented about creative writing workshops, shall we? Please feel free to respond to any of this or add something new to the discussion.
"If you have guidelines for or restrictions placed upon your work, you're being creatively stifled and wasting your time."
Wrong. Duh. Creative writing courses are not sit around and keep your thumb in its usual place in your a*****e courses. This argument usually appears from those who write genre material or "emo" poetry, because such work is often considered to be inferior to literary fiction and poetry. Whether these are actually inferior or not is for another discussion, but consider this: In my years spent in creative writing workshops and theory classes (and in speaking with countless professors of creative writing and literature about the subject), I've found the overwhelming majority of such pieces to focus entirely too much on the conventions of their respective genre, to the point that the basic fundamentals of writing--plot, voice, setting, the tension of characters and situation, metaphor, imagery--are completely ignored. Often times, professors seek to put you outside your comfort area for one simple reason: You're in a creative writing class to learn. You aren't there to do just any-old-thing you want. You're there to learn to manipulate words in a way that aesthetically honors the traditions of literature and expounds upon them. As one who thought he was awesome as s**t when he was a teenager, please allow me to assure you: You aren't as awesome as you think you are. You need to learn, and you learn--or should learn--with every word you write.
"If you have a less-than-adequate teacher, you can't learn anything and are wasting your time."
Wrong. Life doesn't always hand us a bag of happy rabbit treats, and sometimes you're going to have teachers you don't particularly like--be it personal differences, differing focus on certain elements of writing, or even the teacher's inability to meet your needs. This doesn't mean, however, that you can't learn from the teacher--and your peers in the class. Everyone is going to let at least some little nugget of brilliance slip at some point, and it's your job to pick it all up. Remember, though, that nine times out of ten, you can learn a whole hell of a lot from your teacher. Put aside your personal feelings and approach your writing class as art education and your professor as any other teacher--try thinking math to get this concept arranged in your head--and you’ll probably be surprised just how much you’ll learn.
"The success of a workshop depends on your classmates' willingness to critique your work--and they're rarely any help."
Wrong. With all due respect to Mr. King (if he did indeed express this sentiment, as I'm told), this is only partially true--at best. Help received from your classmates can be a wonderful thing. True, the other writers care more about their own work than they do yours. The workshops in which I've participated, however, have in no way suffered from this fact. A workshop is a community, and the writers participating generally know this. Granted, there are going to be some peers who are of little help--be it because they don’t care to help or because they are--quite literally--incapable of helping, but I’ve always been able to find at least a person or two who are willing and able to help. Those who give you valuable, useful feedback--and there’s always going to be someone--are absolutely invaluable. It is important, of course, that you always serve the same role for your peers--you quickly learn who fully participates in a workshop, and so does everyone else. Plus, you learn a lot about writing from critiquing the work of others--true story! Maximize on the good instead of focusing on the unhelpful. Only you can ruin the workshop experience for yourself.
"If you have guidelines for or restrictions placed upon your work, you're being creatively stifled and wasting your time."
Wrong. Duh. Creative writing courses are not sit around and keep your thumb in its usual place in your a*****e courses. This argument usually appears from those who write genre material or "emo" poetry, because such work is often considered to be inferior to literary fiction and poetry. Whether these are actually inferior or not is for another discussion, but consider this: In my years spent in creative writing workshops and theory classes (and in speaking with countless professors of creative writing and literature about the subject), I've found the overwhelming majority of such pieces to focus entirely too much on the conventions of their respective genre, to the point that the basic fundamentals of writing--plot, voice, setting, the tension of characters and situation, metaphor, imagery--are completely ignored. Often times, professors seek to put you outside your comfort area for one simple reason: You're in a creative writing class to learn. You aren't there to do just any-old-thing you want. You're there to learn to manipulate words in a way that aesthetically honors the traditions of literature and expounds upon them. As one who thought he was awesome as s**t when he was a teenager, please allow me to assure you: You aren't as awesome as you think you are. You need to learn, and you learn--or should learn--with every word you write.
"If you have a less-than-adequate teacher, you can't learn anything and are wasting your time."
Wrong. Life doesn't always hand us a bag of happy rabbit treats, and sometimes you're going to have teachers you don't particularly like--be it personal differences, differing focus on certain elements of writing, or even the teacher's inability to meet your needs. This doesn't mean, however, that you can't learn from the teacher--and your peers in the class. Everyone is going to let at least some little nugget of brilliance slip at some point, and it's your job to pick it all up. Remember, though, that nine times out of ten, you can learn a whole hell of a lot from your teacher. Put aside your personal feelings and approach your writing class as art education and your professor as any other teacher--try thinking math to get this concept arranged in your head--and you’ll probably be surprised just how much you’ll learn.
"The success of a workshop depends on your classmates' willingness to critique your work--and they're rarely any help."
Wrong. With all due respect to Mr. King (if he did indeed express this sentiment, as I'm told), this is only partially true--at best. Help received from your classmates can be a wonderful thing. True, the other writers care more about their own work than they do yours. The workshops in which I've participated, however, have in no way suffered from this fact. A workshop is a community, and the writers participating generally know this. Granted, there are going to be some peers who are of little help--be it because they don’t care to help or because they are--quite literally--incapable of helping, but I’ve always been able to find at least a person or two who are willing and able to help. Those who give you valuable, useful feedback--and there’s always going to be someone--are absolutely invaluable. It is important, of course, that you always serve the same role for your peers--you quickly learn who fully participates in a workshop, and so does everyone else. Plus, you learn a lot about writing from critiquing the work of others--true story! Maximize on the good instead of focusing on the unhelpful. Only you can ruin the workshop experience for yourself.