My Clarion blog post
Aug. 8th, 2010 04:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
prusik[Normally, I'd consider this cat waxing. I'm blogging when I should be writing. Since I've just written 6 short stories in 6 weeks, I'm giving myself a pass this time. BTW, a reason why you haven't heard from me much over the past 6 weeks is because the class of Clarion 2010 decided to go into radio silence for the duration. Also, I have no idea how anyone found the time to blog.]
The worst thing about Clarion is saying goodbye to everyone. What makes it so bad is that we all have different departure times. For a stretch of several hours, you're constantly saying goodbye to people, one or two at a time. Greg drove me to the airport and as we reached my terminal I told him that maybe I could say goodbye one more time before I'd totally lose it. Sure enough, I said goodbye to Greg, entered the terminal, then totally lost it. I'm sure there were people at the airport wondering who was this strange man with the moist eyes and the grief-stricken expression wandering the terminal trying to find his gate. (It actually did take me a few tries to find the correct security checkpoint. It's hard when your vision is so blurry and all you can think about are the people you've just left behind.)
Clarion itself was awesome. I totally recommend it to anyone interested in writing better short stories. There is some discussion of novels, but Clarion at heart is a short story workshop. Writing lots of short stories will lead to better short stories. The way to write better novels is probably to write more novels. Having said that, gaining a better understanding of how short stories work and the ways I made writing them more difficult for myself, I think, will serve me in the future should I ever write a novel.
I love all of my Clarion classmates. Our Clarion was apparently a little atypical in that everyone got along with everyone else. (Srsly. Instructor after instructor pointed out how well we got along with each other as if this were unusual.) I think part of it is that we all united very quickly against a common enemy: the cafeteria. It wasn't just the food. Every once in a while, the cafeteria food was shockingly good. Unfortunately, they managed only often enough that no one was willing to write off the cafe completely. (Also, they'd curtained the cafe into two sections. The people on the other side of the black curtain always got better food.) What really made the cafe the common enemy was that they would not let us have trays when they let everyone else have trays. It's such a stupid thing, but it was the final indignity.
All the instructors were awesome. The just announced 2011 set looks awesome and the new class will be lucky to have them, but I wouldn't trade the 2010 set for anything. Each instructor brought something completely different from every other instructor. Delia brought (along with Ellen Kushner) a devotion to structure, the raising then fulfilling of expectations. George forced us to put our work within the historical context of genre as a whole. Dale insisted that we always write with the best language we could muster so that we were in full control of the effect on the reader. Chip raised all sorts of interesting questions about, for example, point of view and verb tense as well as insisted that we make each sentence as meaningful as possible. (Note that this sometimes means removing words.) The Vandermeers were, for us, the perfect anchor team. They helped us synthesize everything we'd learned in the previous 4 weeks. They took a detailed look at our work and tailored their instruction to hit areas where they knew we needed the most help.
As for the Clarion experience, honestly, the best way I can describe it is that it's like Project Runway without the eliminations (and, hopefully, without the interpersonal drama) but with the runway show and a new Tim Gunn each week. Alternately, Clarion is like an iterated Scrapheap Challenge (aka Junkyard Wars). To get the most out of Clarion, you have to hand in your first drafts. You may have time to copy edit your stories so that at least the text is clean, but they are still your first stabs at telling those stories. If something isn't working, there usually isn't time for radical reconstructive surgery. You make each story work the best that you can. (I definitely learned the importance of being done.)
(Note: Everything I handed in was a story I thought deserved serious consideration. It's a matter of respect and limited workshop time. You don't waste your instructor's and your fellow students' time with a pile of text you threw together just because you want a critique. Not everything I wrote worked, but everything I wrote were credible attempts to tell a story in the best way possible. To go back to the reality TV game show analogy, at the end of every episode of Project Runway, what you throw onto the runway has to be a piece of clothing even if it's one that isn't completely successful. At the end of every episode of Scrapheap Challenge, you have to have a functioning machine, even if it's one that will utterly fail at the final competition. If you don't have a piece of clothing, or a functioning machine, you don't go until you do.)
For me, the lack of time turned out to be a virtue of sorts. Very quickly, I'd gotten better at predicting not only what the class but what the instructors would pinpoint as the problems I need to address in the next draft. Why didn't I resolve them before handing in the story? See above. Also, if I'm going to embark on serious structural changes, what I really need is several weeks' distance first.
In the process, I went from submitting a hot mess for week 1 to submitting a story half of which apparently worked really well and the other half had no stakes to speak of for week 6. (Just to unpack that a bit, the week 6 story had two interlocking threads. One thread worked really well. The reaction was near unanimous. The other thread, not so much. Also near unanimous.) I'd love to be the guy who writes brilliant, or at least publishable, first drafts. Half a working draft after one stab though, is really better than I have any right to expect. (I think that, at Clarion, I've learned to write better first drafts.)
Everyone that everyone says about forcing yourself to write then receiving near immediate feedback on your writing is absolutely true. Attempting 6 stories in 6 weeks was the right move for me. I don't think it's the right move for everyone (and certainly, no one is obliged to do that). Doing that confirmed for me that I'm someone who needs to get the first draft out quickly, but not in a rush. i.e., I write my best first drafts when I trust my first instincts and I don't overthink my writing. One way to do that is to write fast. Just to make it tricky, it's possible for me to write too fast. When I'm in a rush, the result is not thought out at all. (i.e., not only am I not trust my first instincts, I'm not trusting any instinct at all.)
Amusingly, this means I wrote my best work while horribly sleep deprived. I was so tired that I couldn't overthink anything even if I wanted to. Also, being that tired, I couldn't rush. I settled into a cadence where I could get the story out, but it unfolded in its own pace. Now I just have to figure out how to do that, but with sleep.
Clarion is wonderful in the same way that my writing group is wonderful. It's a remarkably safe space for me to fail in. Everyone tells it like it is, but if you screw up something in your story, it's ok. I tried all sorts of stuff and learned so much even when (or perhaps especially when) it didn't work. Clarion has the bonus of near instantaneous feedback, but the demerit that no one, including you, has had much sleep. Like it or not, not only are you writing a short story a week, but you're reading maybe 20000 words every night and you're expected to have something intelligent to say about all those words. (SF writing boot camp? It is *not* a joke. Repeat. *Not* a joke.) My classmates, each one of them brilliant, always had something intelligent to say. I'd like to think that I managed it too most of the time.
Since I went to Viable Paradise in 2006, I'd like to compare the two. This turns out to be really easy. There's no comparison. They're both wonderful experiences I wouldn't have missed for the world, but they are very different from each other. VP, by nature, has to be a much more concentrated experience. There's a reason why VP has to have Wednesday as a planned day off whereas Clarion really has no such concept. In theory, you get weekends off at Clarion because there are no critique sessions. In practice, that was when most of us, including me, got lots of writing done.
VP is a sprint and Clarion is a marathon. It's really up to you which is more your style. I ended up doing both, in part, because I came out of VP realizing that I'd gone too early. I really should have wrestled with storytelling for a few years more before I could get the most out of any workshop. Back in 2006, I simply didn't have the experience to understand everything I was learning at VP. Until I went to VP, I didn't realize how ignorant I was. That realization by itself made VP worth it for me and I learned so much more than that there. Of course, maybe in 2014, I'll realize that I wasn't experienced enough for Clarion in 2010. I have no idea. Certainly, what they both give you, ultimately, are the tools for you to learn whatever it is you need to learn for yourself.
In any case, I'm done with instructor-led workshops. Clarion has sated me. Ok, if I start writing novels seriously, I may consider applying to Taos Toolbox after I've written a few. Honestly though, applying to Taos not likely. The way for me to learn how to write good novels, I suspect, is to keep writing novels. That will take a long time, but so is just about anything worth doing. (No, I have no novels planned. If I write anything lengthy, it will be because I start writing something then realize that the scope is too large for a short story. One of the things I've started to figure out from being inundated with so many short stories over so short a time is a sense of the scope of your typical short story.)
I've left a lot of stuff out. I can't condense a 6 week workshop into one blog post, or even a series of blog posts. (And I'm not going to try. Down that path lies serious cat waxing.)
Is Clarion for everyone? Probably not. Honestly, I suspect there are lots writers who don't need any sort of intensive writing workshop or may not get anything out of one. Some of those who do may be better off with the sprint than the marathon. I certainly have no illusions that going to Clarion (or any workshop) will make me a published writer. Regardless, going was the right move for me. I wouldn't give up those 6 weeks for anything.
The worst thing about Clarion is saying goodbye to everyone. What makes it so bad is that we all have different departure times. For a stretch of several hours, you're constantly saying goodbye to people, one or two at a time. Greg drove me to the airport and as we reached my terminal I told him that maybe I could say goodbye one more time before I'd totally lose it. Sure enough, I said goodbye to Greg, entered the terminal, then totally lost it. I'm sure there were people at the airport wondering who was this strange man with the moist eyes and the grief-stricken expression wandering the terminal trying to find his gate. (It actually did take me a few tries to find the correct security checkpoint. It's hard when your vision is so blurry and all you can think about are the people you've just left behind.)
Clarion itself was awesome. I totally recommend it to anyone interested in writing better short stories. There is some discussion of novels, but Clarion at heart is a short story workshop. Writing lots of short stories will lead to better short stories. The way to write better novels is probably to write more novels. Having said that, gaining a better understanding of how short stories work and the ways I made writing them more difficult for myself, I think, will serve me in the future should I ever write a novel.
I love all of my Clarion classmates. Our Clarion was apparently a little atypical in that everyone got along with everyone else. (Srsly. Instructor after instructor pointed out how well we got along with each other as if this were unusual.) I think part of it is that we all united very quickly against a common enemy: the cafeteria. It wasn't just the food. Every once in a while, the cafeteria food was shockingly good. Unfortunately, they managed only often enough that no one was willing to write off the cafe completely. (Also, they'd curtained the cafe into two sections. The people on the other side of the black curtain always got better food.) What really made the cafe the common enemy was that they would not let us have trays when they let everyone else have trays. It's such a stupid thing, but it was the final indignity.
All the instructors were awesome. The just announced 2011 set looks awesome and the new class will be lucky to have them, but I wouldn't trade the 2010 set for anything. Each instructor brought something completely different from every other instructor. Delia brought (along with Ellen Kushner) a devotion to structure, the raising then fulfilling of expectations. George forced us to put our work within the historical context of genre as a whole. Dale insisted that we always write with the best language we could muster so that we were in full control of the effect on the reader. Chip raised all sorts of interesting questions about, for example, point of view and verb tense as well as insisted that we make each sentence as meaningful as possible. (Note that this sometimes means removing words.) The Vandermeers were, for us, the perfect anchor team. They helped us synthesize everything we'd learned in the previous 4 weeks. They took a detailed look at our work and tailored their instruction to hit areas where they knew we needed the most help.
As for the Clarion experience, honestly, the best way I can describe it is that it's like Project Runway without the eliminations (and, hopefully, without the interpersonal drama) but with the runway show and a new Tim Gunn each week. Alternately, Clarion is like an iterated Scrapheap Challenge (aka Junkyard Wars). To get the most out of Clarion, you have to hand in your first drafts. You may have time to copy edit your stories so that at least the text is clean, but they are still your first stabs at telling those stories. If something isn't working, there usually isn't time for radical reconstructive surgery. You make each story work the best that you can. (I definitely learned the importance of being done.)
(Note: Everything I handed in was a story I thought deserved serious consideration. It's a matter of respect and limited workshop time. You don't waste your instructor's and your fellow students' time with a pile of text you threw together just because you want a critique. Not everything I wrote worked, but everything I wrote were credible attempts to tell a story in the best way possible. To go back to the reality TV game show analogy, at the end of every episode of Project Runway, what you throw onto the runway has to be a piece of clothing even if it's one that isn't completely successful. At the end of every episode of Scrapheap Challenge, you have to have a functioning machine, even if it's one that will utterly fail at the final competition. If you don't have a piece of clothing, or a functioning machine, you don't go until you do.)
For me, the lack of time turned out to be a virtue of sorts. Very quickly, I'd gotten better at predicting not only what the class but what the instructors would pinpoint as the problems I need to address in the next draft. Why didn't I resolve them before handing in the story? See above. Also, if I'm going to embark on serious structural changes, what I really need is several weeks' distance first.
In the process, I went from submitting a hot mess for week 1 to submitting a story half of which apparently worked really well and the other half had no stakes to speak of for week 6. (Just to unpack that a bit, the week 6 story had two interlocking threads. One thread worked really well. The reaction was near unanimous. The other thread, not so much. Also near unanimous.) I'd love to be the guy who writes brilliant, or at least publishable, first drafts. Half a working draft after one stab though, is really better than I have any right to expect. (I think that, at Clarion, I've learned to write better first drafts.)
Everyone that everyone says about forcing yourself to write then receiving near immediate feedback on your writing is absolutely true. Attempting 6 stories in 6 weeks was the right move for me. I don't think it's the right move for everyone (and certainly, no one is obliged to do that). Doing that confirmed for me that I'm someone who needs to get the first draft out quickly, but not in a rush. i.e., I write my best first drafts when I trust my first instincts and I don't overthink my writing. One way to do that is to write fast. Just to make it tricky, it's possible for me to write too fast. When I'm in a rush, the result is not thought out at all. (i.e., not only am I not trust my first instincts, I'm not trusting any instinct at all.)
Amusingly, this means I wrote my best work while horribly sleep deprived. I was so tired that I couldn't overthink anything even if I wanted to. Also, being that tired, I couldn't rush. I settled into a cadence where I could get the story out, but it unfolded in its own pace. Now I just have to figure out how to do that, but with sleep.
Clarion is wonderful in the same way that my writing group is wonderful. It's a remarkably safe space for me to fail in. Everyone tells it like it is, but if you screw up something in your story, it's ok. I tried all sorts of stuff and learned so much even when (or perhaps especially when) it didn't work. Clarion has the bonus of near instantaneous feedback, but the demerit that no one, including you, has had much sleep. Like it or not, not only are you writing a short story a week, but you're reading maybe 20000 words every night and you're expected to have something intelligent to say about all those words. (SF writing boot camp? It is *not* a joke. Repeat. *Not* a joke.) My classmates, each one of them brilliant, always had something intelligent to say. I'd like to think that I managed it too most of the time.
Since I went to Viable Paradise in 2006, I'd like to compare the two. This turns out to be really easy. There's no comparison. They're both wonderful experiences I wouldn't have missed for the world, but they are very different from each other. VP, by nature, has to be a much more concentrated experience. There's a reason why VP has to have Wednesday as a planned day off whereas Clarion really has no such concept. In theory, you get weekends off at Clarion because there are no critique sessions. In practice, that was when most of us, including me, got lots of writing done.
VP is a sprint and Clarion is a marathon. It's really up to you which is more your style. I ended up doing both, in part, because I came out of VP realizing that I'd gone too early. I really should have wrestled with storytelling for a few years more before I could get the most out of any workshop. Back in 2006, I simply didn't have the experience to understand everything I was learning at VP. Until I went to VP, I didn't realize how ignorant I was. That realization by itself made VP worth it for me and I learned so much more than that there. Of course, maybe in 2014, I'll realize that I wasn't experienced enough for Clarion in 2010. I have no idea. Certainly, what they both give you, ultimately, are the tools for you to learn whatever it is you need to learn for yourself.
In any case, I'm done with instructor-led workshops. Clarion has sated me. Ok, if I start writing novels seriously, I may consider applying to Taos Toolbox after I've written a few. Honestly though, applying to Taos not likely. The way for me to learn how to write good novels, I suspect, is to keep writing novels. That will take a long time, but so is just about anything worth doing. (No, I have no novels planned. If I write anything lengthy, it will be because I start writing something then realize that the scope is too large for a short story. One of the things I've started to figure out from being inundated with so many short stories over so short a time is a sense of the scope of your typical short story.)
I've left a lot of stuff out. I can't condense a 6 week workshop into one blog post, or even a series of blog posts. (And I'm not going to try. Down that path lies serious cat waxing.)
Is Clarion for everyone? Probably not. Honestly, I suspect there are lots writers who don't need any sort of intensive writing workshop or may not get anything out of one. Some of those who do may be better off with the sprint than the marathon. I certainly have no illusions that going to Clarion (or any workshop) will make me a published writer. Regardless, going was the right move for me. I wouldn't give up those 6 weeks for anything.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-09 04:26 pm (UTC)