"Play"ing

Occasionally, I brashly believe I know something about the art and craft of fiction. I sound, to myself and others, as if I actually know something about the mess that is creation. Then I read something by Salinger and realize I know next to nothing, very little, a minute amount that would fill the space of a pin head.

Dialogue, at least to me, is a bit of a lost art. Creating realistic, intriguing, plot relevant, character relevant dialogue is something that is difficult to find in any author. Salinger was an expert at it. He reveled in it, it seems. And, as we know now, the past tense can no longer be avoided when referencing J.D. Salinger.

I feel very lucky to be working with a promising young writer, Joe Lewis, on the adaptation of one of my short stories into a stage play. The writing is both invigorating and challenging. I enlisted Mr. Lewis because of his knowledge of the genre, of which I have little, as well as his work ethic and overall talent. I also knew he was a student who would not back down from his own ideas.

Suffice it to say that playwriting, or screenwriting for that matter, is an exercise every fiction writer should attempt. The development of character and scene, tension and drama specifically and almost exclusively through dialogue is a mountain we should all climb. Of course, there's a certain level of interpretation on the other end through the eyes and mind of the actors and the director, but ultimately, the writer is still trying to convey a feeling, a sense, an emotion through the lines spoken by his or her characters. Without the ally of exposition, I have felt at times during this process as if I'm flapping like a loose grocery sack in a persistent wind. The process is grinding, and I find myself needing more days off from it than I expected. Partly due to numerous other commitments, including my own work, but also due to the toll this type of writing can take on an artist. I admire those who work with the genre on a consistent basis. They are to be commended for their fortitude and efforts.

But this started out as an entry on Salinger. I reread Salinger's "A Perfect Day for Bananafish." I love that story for the sake of what is revealed but also for the the dialogue, which is perfect, beautiful, and sustaining. A tip of an unworthy hat to J.D. Salinger and a thank you for giving us his stories. The dialogue is not only a perfect study for beginning to intermediate students but is also a tribute to the art of the spoken word in fiction where plot is advanced, character revealed, and so much more seethes beneath its surface.

A Time to Feel

Recently, I have had many an interesting dicussion in my creative writing course about "feeling" a story. We have been discussing how a story gathers, and it has come to my attention that "feeling" any situation is truly at the heart of understanding art.

I have several stories in different folders on my computer that have simply died due to lack of feeling. I am positive that other writers have similar situations. There simply was nothing there. Nothing worth exploring. Nothing worth telling. Nothing worth feeling. The story simply died out because it lacked any kind of heartbeat in the first place.

However, I do believe, without a doubt, that these stories that have died have a place in the writing journey. There's no arguing that creation of material is essential to the success of any writer's journey, but that material does not always have to be excellent, as we know. Those of us who have successfully navigated and in some cases survived graduate-level workshops know that failure is simply the nature of the game. Even those who have not attended a university and studied the craft in a formal setting know this. So, it's not a question of to fail or not to fail, of a story dying or not dying. It's not an "if" question. It's a "when" question.

The reaction the writer has to failure ultimately will tell him or her a great deal about his or her commitment to their on journey. The first time you roll up that rejection slip or story that is a true failure or poem that simply doesn't work and stuff it into a Jim Beam bottle or throw it on a pyre, you will know which direction you wish to proceed.

The Work Ahead

It has been awhile since I have posted anything. Perhaps due to the holiday season; perhaps because I've been home watching the children; perhaps because we have been buried in snow for the past week.

Since my last post, I have learned that Press 53 (www.press53.com) has picked up my collection of short stories, Best Road Yet. I am elated with the news, and I am also treading in unknown waters. As I look forward, I realize there is much work to be done on the book. This is a bit daunting, no doubt, especially with the continuation of work on the "something longer" mentioned in an early post (more on that in a moment), but I am ready for the challenge. I believe in the press and in its editor. I also believe in myself. Put all of that together, and I know the final product will be excellent. I look forward to the work.

As for the "something longer," I have found it exceedingly difficult to get much work done over the course of the last few weeks. The holidays present interesting challenges to the writer with a family. Speaking of that, I will have to do a post on the writer who "takes time off" to raise a family at some point.

The writing has been going about as slow as this snow seems to be melting. A refocus is certainly required, and with a number of other commitments this semester, including the prep for the new book coming out in October, an endowed chair project to administer, two conferences to attend and one to assist in the planning of, seven classes to teach, and a book to not only prep and edit but to market as well, I see the coming months as hectic at best. However, I find it necessary to force time in to write. A former teacher and friend of mine, Mary Troy, implored the graduates of the M.F.A. program to keep their own work in perspective. "Your work comes first," she used to say. "Everything else is peripheral." There's some truth to that, of course, but ultimately a certain balance must be achieved.

In light of this, I plan on applying for residencies with my eyes on a few that are truly of interest to me. I have found the Ucross Foundation, located in Wyoming, particularly attractive and hope to be accepted in order to work on the "something longer."

All of that said, life has taken an excellent turn at this point. I am grateful for all that has transpired over the last several weeks and throughout this past year and look forward to a productive and vigorous 2010.

Curing The Grind

Every writer I know speaks of "the grind." It is something we all seem to deal with at one point or another. I suppose, in general terms, the grind is defined as that daily interaction with whatever genre you are wrestling with whether it be a novel, a short story, a poem, a play, and the list goes on. However, I began to think about "the grind" and the unique interactions we must have with this affliction. Writing is certainly an artform, and all artforms are unique to the individual. Logically, "the grind" should be no different.

For me, "the grind" involves inspiration and a willingness to sit down even when the work is not flowing well. Recently, I began working on "something longer." I dare not use the term "novel" due to many failed attempts and poor performances. My attempt to destigmatize the process by simply calling it by another name, for a start, seems to be working so far.

However, a simple name change does not entierly suffice. A horse by any other name is still a . . . as the cliche goes. What I find when writing "something longer" is that I must approach it with a sense of humility and submission. I can only write what is called for in the immediate moment. I have heard other novelists describe how they have written their novels. "I went and wrote the sixth chapter first then wrote the twelfth then the first" and so on. This approach, at least for me, has never worked. I find myself aimlessly meandering through a hodgepodge of potential story lines. In light of this recklessness, I devised a new system that focuses less on plot and more on character. "I need/want to write about this person today." I also focus more on writing in scenes, something advocated by Rick Skwiot, a former teacher of mine. Write in scenes. Write on character. This approach plays toward what I enjoy the most about short story writing as well as a few of my writing strengths. I only hope it will produce a solid and worthwhile manuscript.

I'm positive I am not reinventing the wheel here. (As is apparent by the use of so many cliches in this post!) I am simply revealing and sharing what has worked for me, which is the nature of this blog. So far, this approach is working. The "something longer" is growing in the breadth and scope of its narrative existance. I'm beginning to believe it is a story worth telling, which is ultimately the medicine that cures "the grind" for me.

In the October/November issue of the AWP Writer's Chronicle Cris Mazza's article "Too Much of Moi?" appeared. It is an intriguing article about the fad of the first person narrative and how that point of view choice has become a central figure in the world of contemporary fiction.

I will admit after reading Ms. Mazza's article that I ran for my collection and heaved a sigh of relief to find that the stories were split nearly 50/50 between first and third person with a slight favor toward the third person point of view.

It has always been my contention that point of view is the most important choice a writer makes when constructing any narrative. Where the story is told from determines how the story is presented as well as how it is perceived.

Submit Yourself

Submission. What a word. I submit to you. Sounds nasty, yes? And, in the writing world, in many ways, it is because submission so often leads to rejection. In writing, we are all the geeky kid with thick glasses asking the popular kid to the dance. "No," that kid will say about ninety percent of the time in a firm and dismissive tone represented by a rag-tag rejection notice with whatever version of "thanks but no thanks" the editors could cook up.

I'm not bashing literary magazines or small presses. It's not their fault. The sheer number of submissions would overwhelm even the most dedicated literature champion. When I worked as a fiction editor for River Styx magazine, we received anywhere from six hundred to over a thousand submissions per month. That didn't include the poetry contest, which was immensly popular. It is impossible for volunteers and poorly paid editors (in many cases) to go through each submission and respond to it as it deserves. This is simply the world we live in; a world described by a former teacher of mine as a "renaissance" in reference to the number of people writing and submitting their work. I suppose we live with the positives and negatives of any movement, renaissances included.

That being said, writers must prepare themselves for the ineviatable rejection slips that will show up and not take them as a personal affront to their craft. Of course, this is old hat. Many students of the craft and those of us down the craft development road have heard this addage at conferences, in classrooms, and from our peers. Ultimately, however, I want to do something that many of the "experts" argue should not be done. I encourage students to send out what they believe to be their best work. Everyone should continue to adhere to the "don't-send-it-out-until-its-ready" rule, but believing in your work should not be accompanied by a keep-it-under-wraps approach. Send those stories and poems out into the world. Everyone should know where they stand when it comes to publication. That jagged little pill will most likely come back at you, but keep working, keep banging at the door. Sometimes, the porter hears you. Sometimes, the popular kid says yes.

Please share any experiences you've had with submission, rejection, and acceptance. I recently sent out a run of stories to several places and am awaiting word though I've heard the "thanks but no thanks" call from a few places so far.

The Art of Production

I started this blog with the idea that I would allow my students, and others, a more unique look into my life as a writer. A few weeks ago, I was reading at the local public library. During a question and answer period after the reading, I was asked "With your schedule, when do you write?" My answer? "I don't." At the time, the answer seemed reasonable. I teach a lot during the semester. I am involved in several other projects that I deem important and relevant. I have a family. There are many reasons my production level decreases, especially during the semester.

Two weeks later, or thereabouts, I find the answer harrowing, terrifying, and a bit overwhelming. I have heard too many older people say that they are just coming back to writing after "taking time off to raise a family." I remember giving advice to a friend when I was starting out as a writing teacher. He was writing a novel and was considering taking time off from writing. I urged him to reconsider. I told him if he left the novel, he would never finish it. He did leave it. He has never finished it. And so, I am faced with a similar dilemma, and I have decided that despite my commitments to so many important paths, my writing and my craft (after my family) are of the utmost importance. Production is key, as it always has been. I tell my students to write, write, write; read, read, read, read, read, read. So, there it is.

In light of this, I have decided, with the encouragement and support of my wonderful wife, to apply for residencies and to seek out opportunities to write during the summer months particularly. I will also schedule specific times during the day that will be devoted to my work. If I am going to ask it of my students, I should know what I ask. Perhaps this is not the best thing to place out there in the open as I seek publication of my manuscript, but this is an honest and real problem. Many writers struggle with time constraints, "real" jobs, (gulp) family commitments (I gulp because it is most likely taboo to write what I just wrote), and other hurdles that hinder production and creation. Some of us have jumped over these hurdles. I know we have because there are books on the shelves written by people who teach at community colleges, four-year schools, high schools, and so on; people who have families and pets and children in daycare and elderly parents. It is a solvable issue, and I intend to find the path that will lead to more production, better production, and, ultimately, publication. I hope you will, too.

Write on, my friends.