workshop

This is the second writer's workshop I have taken this year.  The first one was a good experience, even though about a third of the students weren't good at giving any sort of constructive criticism.  They weren't good at giving any criticism at all. 

"I loved the story.  The characters were great, the story was interesting.  I really have nothing bad to say about it..."

But our instructor was great.  May I interject with something I mentioned months ago?  I live in Manhattan and as anyone who lives or works there knows, this particular unnamed workshop has stands holding it's fliers on just about every other street corner in NYC.  I have seen it around for the last 10 years or so.  And I have picked up the course catalog at least a handful of times.  But it always seemed to good to be true--valid literary instruction and critique of your work for a fraction of the cost of a college level writing course.  And the catalogs... they remind me of The Flyer--the cheap weekly in South Florida that is full of advertisements and classifieds.  But last spring, on a whim, I finally decided to take the course.  As soon as the instructor spoke, she set my mind at ease.  It wasn't just the Brown and Sarah Lawrence degrees--although my animal consumer brain was pleased by the brand names--she spoke with ease and authority about literature.  And not just novels or just short stories and not just the classics or the avant garde but all of it.

I am in the advanced class now.  No lectures.  Finished stories are expected.  Your stories are jumping-off points for mini-lessons on craft.  The class is larger--11 (as opposed to 6) students.  And I would say that 10 out the 11 have intelligent well-thought-out things to say.  And a good 45 minutes are spent on your work.  I told Jessica I was unhappy with one aspect of the critique: when the writer emerges at the end and speaks to the class.  I just don't like explications of works of art by the artist.  Not when the work should speak for itself.  And yet, yesterday, when my turn came... I found that I was saying things like: "Oh, you didn't get that about my character?  Well, in an earlier draft I think I explain that further... " Or, "Hmm, but it takes place in Florida because that's where the landscape looks like this..."  Things I would have criticized others for.  But I found that I wasn't saying these thing to justify my work or to explain it them.  I was saying these things because I needed even more feedback on the creation of this work--and because I needed to share my creative process with them--a little (without trying to explain the mysteries of creation).  And I got the feedback.  And it wasn't about validation or approval, it was about the work.  And for a few moments, I felt solidarity with the other writers in the room.

and for jessica...

Mary Jane, a stripper prone to acrobatics who said she came here to work a year ago so that that she could save money to return to college, recalled being astounded at what she heard was going on in the gay clubs.

"Oral sex, right there in front of everyone," said Mary Jane, who was wearing high heels, tattoos and nothing else. "I couldn't believe it."

9:48:59 AM    say it here