Bethany Roachell

The Heart of the Writer

The little emotional kid in the corner with dyed jet black hair and dark clothes and heavy eye-liner (the modern term: Emo Kid) describes none of the classmates in any of the creative writing classes I have attended. When asked my hobbies, or my degree, people are surprised how much I read and write and that my goal is to receive a degree in Literature. Maybe it’s just the overactive imagination but sometimes I even see it in their eyes, that little hint of a person screaming: “But you don’t look the part!”

Honestly, what is a writer supposed to look like? If you stop to look around you would realize that everyone who puts a pen (or pencil) down to paper and jots down an idea or note and everyone who strikes the keys of a keyboard to retell what happened earlier that day to a friend in an instant messenger is a writer. He might not have the perfect grammar and she might not be able to spell well but they are writers. When you collect all these people together in one room for a workshop you get such an array of different people you will see why it is so difficult to lose yourself amongst them.

Workshops are a way to bring these writers together. It is a way to share ideas, stories, and poetry and learn from each other. Many students express how when they first started the class their anxiety heightened when they realized they would have to not only write something but share that part of them aloud by presenting it in class. Even as a veteran of workshops, I still find it hard to start reading the first lines of either a poem or short story. However, with the right kind of attitude and the easy acceptance of others make baring a part of your soul—whether it is a six line poem or a six page paper—not so hard.

Students from other classes ended up with positive feedback from the workshop once they came to terms with the shock of having to present. Joe Cuellar, in his essay “Of a Personal Nature,” talks about how nervous he was about presenting his work to his classmates but after he said that he “was more at ease when … [he] … saw that the class was very open to criticism … and were all eager for feedback.” Once he realized everyone was in the same boat as him and just as willing to give and receive feedback it made the class easier. He says that the class focuses on creative writing, but there are many other lessons to be learned due to the structure of the class.”

From my own experience in the class, I enjoyed having the opportunity to look at other classmates’ work and allowing them to look over mine. We exchanged what we knew and also what we learned from our text on how to help make the poetry or short story flow as smooth as a professional’s work. Without the workshop our work might have been pushed aside and start to gather dust full of faults that writers without help sometimes fall into.

The text, Three Genres, helped point out some of the pit-falls. In the first section, dealing with poetry, Minot brings to the reader’s attention that we need to move words around, play with the language we speak. He states on page 50 that an “important factor is sheer love of language” when it comes to poetry. In class we had a lot of fun helping others out with the placements of words—sometimes it worked and sometimes it did not. He told us about the “seven deadly since of poetry” and to change the theme or sound of the poem if it started to represent one of them. For all of this, different pit-falls or strong points we learned about stuck with different people. Within the group we were able to praise and criticize the poem extensively—and with the right terminology—than we otherwise might have been able to.

With both fiction and poetry Minot says to draw from your personal life but if you have to you are able to change certain bits of information around. Both fiction and poetry do not have to be factual. Both can either be sophisticated or simple depending on structure, wording and conflict. One of the major parts of fiction I noticed during workshop we worked on most was dialogue. When was too much or too little? Is this the right way it should look? How exactly does it work?

We all had our own opinions of dialogue. As the classes progressed week after week, we slowly started to realize—with the help of the book and each other—just how dialogue should be. The text says on page 151 “often dialogue and thoughts are played against each other so as to reveal a contrast between the inner and the outer person.” Soon we were able to pick out and suggest what should be said where, how and when it should be paraphrased into the story.

Without the workshop and the help of every person there, I do not think I would have had the success with my own work—and quite possibly any of us. Listening to others during class and even reading some of their revision accounts, I realize how much of a help we all were to each other. There are things in our writings we would never have been able to notice without the help of others. The workshop helps us find the confidence we need to continue writing, to build our stories and poetry up to the level we want them. The people within the group are unique and every input helps in ways we might never have imagined. That is why I believe the heart of the writer lay within those who help her.