Becoming the Writer You Were Meant to Be

Becoming the Writer You Were Meant to Be

There has been a  debate in the literary world for a long time about whether writing is something that can be taught or if it is a subject beyond teaching and that “real writers” are just born. To my way of thinking this is a silly argument. Just as any other art can be taught, writing can be taught. That said, there is such a thing as innate talent, and that is perhaps a little harder to define and in some ways is perhaps not teachable. What I mean is this – painters like Picasso and writers like Hemingway, had a certain measure of innate talent that would have been there without formal training, but, through training and development their talents flourished. Picasso did have formal instruction in art before he left his native Spain, and Hemingway, while not studying at what one would term a traditional writing college, chose to develop his skill a s a writer by working as a newspaper reporter and war correspondent.

This brings me to the point about training to be a writer. Is it necessary to obtain an MFA in creative writing in order to become a writer? Of course not. MFAs are not for everyone, and some writers would be set back or stifled by the rigid structure within an MFA program. Hemingway’s style of writing is not one that an MFA program would likely produce. In fact, there has been criticism of late that MFA programs produce bland, tepid writing where all the angst filled stories of contemporary life sound alike. In other words, in order to succeed in an MFA program, writers learn to write stories that sound like MFA program stories.

Jack Kerouac is another example of a writer who found his own way to learn his chosen craft of writing. When he was still in high school, Kerouac decided that he wanted to be a writer above all else. The story goes that he got a copy of a story collection by William Saroyan and had the epiphany that one could write about everyday life and make it interesting art. Saroyan wrote about starving in San Francisco and living poor and on the edge in Fresno. Kerouac’s “ah-ha” moment was that he could write about Lowell, Massachusetts and about the people he knew there. His fist book, one that is not read enough, was an exploration of a family’s life in a fictionalized Lowell and New York City, called “The Town and the City”.

Kerouac, like Hemingway, had some innate talent, but both worked hard to develop what they had. Neither attended an MFA program nor graduated from college, but both worked hard to learn their craft and how to write effectively. Kerouac wrote for several hours daily. One summer, Kerouac set himself the goal of writing a story a day no matter what. The book, “From Atop an Underwood” includes many of the short pieces he wrote during this period of intense writing-study. Hemingway, in similar fashion, went to Paris and filled notebook after notebook with stories and notes, all in the quest to become a writer. So, do you need to attend an MFA program to become a good writer? No, but you do have to decide on what will develop you into the type of writer you want to be, and then find the discipline to carry out your plan. For many of us it is writing every day and taking each piece of writing seriously. Look for models around you in the writers you love to read. What did they do? How did they develop as writers? Who were their mentors and models?

In the end, becoming a writer is an individual path and each of us has to find what works for us. It may be that an MFA is what you need in order to develop as a writer, and it may be that you need to establish a serious writing discipline and a particular method unique to you as a writer. In the end it is about desire and commitment. If you really want to be a writer commit to learning what you need to learn and then start off on your path with the will to stay the course no matter what.

Book Review and Author Interview: After The Workshop by John McNally

After The Workshop by John McNally

I was a media escort.

With those five words, John McNally begins his fictional biography of Jack Hercules Sheahan, a once promising graduate of “The famous Iowa Writers Workshop”. Jack, is suffering one of the greatest bouts of writers-block and underachievement to come out of The Workshop since its founding in 1939. For those blessed (or cursed) with the need to write, the travails of Jack Hercules Sheahan will be, if not memories, nightmares and fears that keep one up at night. Jack, who had his story, “The Self-Adhesive Postage Stamp”, published in The New Yorker and selected for The Best American Short Stories prior to graduation from “The Workshop” has not written one word on his post-MFA novel in ten years. (Now that is an impressive block by any writer’s standards.) Jack, remains in Iowa City in a small Victorian apartment near the campus, barely surviving by escorting authors around Iowa on book tours. The media escort, as Jack describes it, is the lowest rung of the publishing industry. Through Jack we get a glimpse of the quirky and often barely sane beings commonly called “writers”.

John McNally knows his subject well, having been a media escort and holding an MFA from the Iowa Writers Workshop. But McNally, unlike his fictional protagonist, has several critically acclaimed works to his credit, including, America’s Report Card (2006) and The Book of Ralph (2004).

The travails of Jack Sheahan will resonate with anyone compelled to write or in love with books. This novel is a peek behind the curtain to see how writers create (or don’t create) art. McNally’s tale of Jack’s adventures in trying to locate a missing writer he is escorting who may have gone over the edge, his encounter with a best-selling author who has been hiding out for ten years and may have caused Jack’s writers-block, are as humorous and engaging as his dealings with his perpetually nude neighbor, M. Cat during a raging Iowa blizzard.

John McNally broke away from his current writing long enough to answer a few questions about After The Workshop, and talk about what he is currently working on.

Rocky Cole: What has been the initial response to After The Workshop, and did writing this book alter your approach to writing or to book tours?

John McNally: The initial response from pre-pub reviews (PW, Booklist, Kirkus) and readers has been very positive so far. I couldn’t be happier about it. It took a while for the book to get picked up by a publisher for fear that it was “too insidery,” but to me the book has always been about a guy with a crappy job who wonders if it’s too late to do something with his life, which almost everyone I’ve ever known, in every walk of life, has dealt with and wondered at some point. There’s definitely some “insider” stuff in the book, but my hope has always been that a reader who isn’t a writer can still appreciate the book. I was happy to see (today, in fact) a non-writer Amazon reviewer say just that.

I had a great time writing this book. It’s the first time a novel of mine has fallen into place. What you read is pretty close to what the first draft looked like, with a few exceptions. The actual writing of the book reminded me of why I wanted to be a writer in the first place — because it’s something I enjoy doing. It’s easy to forget that and to focus all your attentions on publication, but I’ve always had better experiences when I don’t think about publication and take pleasure in the act of writing itself.

And it has changed my approach to writing. I’ve returned to writing fiction long-hand, which I’d quit doing about twelve years ago, and I just bought a refurbished IBM Selectric typewriter, so that I can type up my handwritten drafts and revise them in that form before transferring everything onto a computer. In other words, I’m getting back to those things that attracted me to writing in the first place, and I’m trying to be more patient about it all.

RC: How have your peers from the Iowa Writer’s Workshop responded to the book?

JM: I haven’t heard anything yet.

RC: This book seems to be very different than what you have written before (The Book of Ralph) – have you already started on a new work and can you say anything in general about where your next project is headed?

JM: I’ve taken a break from a long historical novel to write a short novel that’s very different from anything I’ve written before. All I can really say about it is that it’s from the points-of-view of several women, and I’ve used a classic book as a springboard, not unlike how my character Tate Rinehart writes novels, much to the irritation of my novel’s narrator, Jack. The new one is a twisted little novel, and I’m having a great time with it. The novel is set in L.A., where I lived for a year not too long ago.

RC: And I understand that you have a new book on the craft of writing that is forthcoming?

JM: Yes…I have a book coming out in September that seems right up the alley of your website. It’s titled THE CREATIVE WRITER’S SURVIVAL GUIDE: ADVICE FROM AN UNREPENTANT NOVELIST, and will be published by the University of Iowa Press.

RC: Since reading “After The Workshop”, I am eager to get my hands on your next book, Good luck with the book tour and don’t be too tough on your media escorts.

Seven Things I learned in a Creative Writing MFA Program

1. No character ever stands in front of the mirror and narrates what he or she looks like. No matter how sexy, tortured, or intelligent he or she may be.

2. #1 also, sadly, includes rain-stained windows.

3. When one of your stories is being workshopped, if someone says “I– I just don’t get it,” ignore that person for the entire semester. In extreme cases of annoyance, ignore that person for the entire program.

4. In said workshop, make note at what point in the story “I don’t get it” was discussed, and make sure you get it yourself. If you don’t, rewrite.

5. “Muttered,” “sputtered,” “scoffed,” and/or “declared” will never, ever take the place of “said.” No matter how hard you try. Elmore Leonard doesn’t lie.

6. Most of the time, your stories really do suck. Unfortunately, no one has the nuts to tell you so. No one but yourself. Rewrite some more.

7. Writing is actually pretty easy — all you need is concentration; enough personal insight to know what you really want to say; thick skin against all criticism, including “I don’t get it;” and the muscle to throw your heart, bleeding and pumping onto the blank page, exposing it for all the boots and Manolos willing to dig in their well-worn heels and make you bleed even more. Easy.

This wonderful insight comes from Gordon Hurd at www.afterthemfa.com.

How a Technique Stephenie Meyer Used in Writing her Twilight Novels Can Help Your Writing

Beginning stories and novels is always a challenge. Most beginnings are discarded eventually. Often, these ignoble starts bear no resemblance to the final product. This difficulty is, I believe, a direct result of the writer having an unclear idea of the story and of the characters who will populate their imaginary world. Stephenie Meyer, the highly successful author of the ‘Twilight’ series, offers a tip in the way that she began her first novel. Stephenie’s experience of beginning Twilight can be used to a writer’s advantage when starting a new story or novel project.

Stephenie, who had written very little and had no great ambition as a writer prior to the amazing success of Twilight, did not sit down initially to write a bestselling coming-of-age vampire novel series. She was a reader, a sporadic writer, and fan of the “vampire-genre” and of the “romance-genre”. Her compelling story that becomes ‘Twilight’ begins with a dream she had one night. This dream will eventually become the ‘meadow scene’ in her first book where Bella Swan, in the forest with Edward Cullen, discovers Edward is a vampire. This is a powerful, key scene in the novel, and Stephenie has described how jolted she was by the images in the dream. Stephenie awoke and wrote the dream down, and this became the key scene the entire book was written around.

We all have dreams and flashes of scenes and characters from time to time, but what Stephenie did with this dream is something that writers can use to begin to craft a story. Stephenie wrote outward from the key scene she devised from her dream to answer the questions posed by the scene:

  • Who were the two people in the dream/scene – a human girl and a handsome vampire?
  • And, why would she willingly give herself to him?

These two questions make up the key components of the story, and in answering them, Stephenie is drawing her readers into a detailed world where vampires and humans exist throughout a long and complex history.

How to use what Stephanie did with Twilight

  1. Begin with a compelling image or character.
  2. Free-write the scene you imagine, or as much detail as you can about the character that you see/imagine.
  3. Step back and answer some questions about what you have written:
  • What came before this scene?
  • What is important about this scene and how did the character get to this place or in this situation?
  • Why does this particular scene matter to the character that is there?
  • What could make this scene or situation worse or complicate the issue or event?
  • What is the natural outcome of the event, and, what is the least likely outcome?

The key takeaway from what Stephenie did with Twilight is to find a compelling scene and then to seek to answer the questions about who is there and what is going on. You write both forward and backwards from the event, trying to give it a realistic (regardless of genre) past that got you to that point, and future, that the story and characters will inexorably move towards.
You may not know exactly where the story will end, but if you begin with a vivid character or scene you can write around it to tell a compelling story.