Writing Workshops

I've never attended a writers' workshop. However I've given a couple of light-hearted lectures on poetry to a local museum and they've recommended me to a local summer school. I'm now booked for 5 session for children - and there's a theme I have to follow.

I worked out an outline and I'll explain limericks to the little children and work out jingles with the older ones. Then we're going to work through poetry on England and I'll get them to write something about their own town.

I've a feeling I'll learn as much from the children as they will from me.

Do you have any tips?

Barnes & Noble has an on line free University. It has great classes on literature, writing, and more.

http://university.barnesandnoble.com/index.asp?nhid=bn

I took a correspondence class in writing, but the instructor quickly abandoned the nuts and bolts aspect of writing and focused almost entirely on marketing. Marketing is as important to success as the writing itself, but in due time, I thought. I dropped out of the class, because I believed it best to improve as a writer first. In time I joined an online writer's group.

The MSN Group I belong to has been good for me. Now, it's time to move on. I will always be my own worst critic; still, I have to try my wings, for it is doubtful I can improve more in the time I have left. At nearing 63, the projects before me loom like a dragon; my arm will weaken all too soon.
I believe very strongly in writing courses for most of us. Some geniuses, such as Maughm, are largely self instructed. I don't know who taught Dickens, but I don't believe one can go to school to learn his kind of inventive use of language and structure. The main thing is to do one's best; never give up trying, no matter what.

Edgar I read your stories in the link you posted, your very good!

Yes, I also believe that self taught writers can be just as good or maybe better than school learned writers. I agree with your last paragraph.

Someone gave me the link on the B&N University, and I thought someone might like to check it out for themselves. I find net learning too slow for me.

Thanks for the kind words. It may be that in the next years to come most storytelling becomes visual instead of prose. It will be a sad time for any would be Dickens, I would think.

Hmmm, now that is something to think about.

Edgarblythe, You are still young for a writer, so don't let your age psyche you out! Writers are not like mathematicians or Wimbledon finalists; our best work often occurs after we are
30, 50, 70.

Dickens most likely had such a brilliant command of language and syntax because he wrote constantly--often many hours a day. As you say, "never give up trying": this was Dickens's approach. Also Winston Churchill's!

As for visual narratives replacing prose--unlikely! For example, film has not replaced good prose writing. Each art form scratches a different itch. Take a look at some of the best recent "graphic novels" (say JIMMY CORRIGAN or PERSOPOLIS), and you will probably feel, as I do, that these are simply variant narrative forms, not replacements for prose fiction.

Dickens was basically a self-taught writer. You, too, can be a successful autodidact. As long as you keep reading, to maintain a continually fresh look at what might work for you, you probably do not need a formal writing teacher.

Although most of my writing time is devoted to my own work, at any given time, I usually have three writing students. We talk one-on-one for an hour a week about strategies for making their expression stronger, clearer, more engaging. I never tell them how to write; rather, I encourage them to explore possibilities that may open up their writing. Each person has his or her own voice--which must be respected. You, too, could have conversations about writing, without having to sign on with someone like me. My chief function is to keep people working; you do not seem to require appointments to fuel your writing! All you need is a friend who likes to discuss how successful stories might have been conceived and grown.

Keep at it! And best wishes!

Salute, Miklos.

Edgar and Miklos, I am very impressed here. Since childhood I have had a passion for words, writing and creating with words. Life now has matured this talent and passion with experience and seasoning, but like you, Edgar, time is not friendly anymore.

Good soothing music is my workshop while sipping on wine and typing on my keyboard as I watch in awe the words pouring from my thoughts. Because this music enfuenced my writing freely, I focused too much on those who create such sounds and became discouraged and frustrated.....until today. Now I realize that I need the nurturing of hob-nobbing with like minds.

Attending college classes on Music and Art appreciation taught me many things. Studying the history of the "greats" helped me to realize that if we have a unique talent gifted to us, we should focus on developing it, maturing it, and enhancing it by continuing to always be learning. But, we should also guard our uniqueness with a passion. More than once I have witnessed artists, writers, and musicians pollute their unique talents with the teachings, directives, and ideas of the "professionals" until their art could not be distinguished from the instructor's.

What a wonderful place....this forum.

I haven't let anyone outside this forum know that I am getting hooked into poetry (believe me, with good reason).
This forum is as close to a writing course as I will ever get.
For that alone, I am grateful.

Peace,
Endy.

Good morning, Endy!

May I ask what has hooked you into poetry? Was it poems that you read which inspired you, or did you just suddenly begin having thoughts which wanted to be expressed in verse?

If you are interested in the titles of a few easily-available books that have encouraged poetry students of mine, I'd be delighted to share them.

I find that, as a writer (and quite probably in other areas of my life as well), I go back and forth between periods of taking in (reading) and putting out (writing). These activities need not be mutually exclusive, of course, but they tend to separate out for me. Typically, I'll go through a heavy spell of reading and contemplation; then, I'll be recharged for my own work.

Thanks for your post Miklos 7

I see that you are a writer and a teacher too, so hopefully, you can speed-read. Your questions got me thinking about things that's all….

I didn't really start using my brain until a few years ago. Becoming a student (even a mature one) was the best thing I ever did.
I did a Fine Art Degree (finished this year) because I've always kept a kind of personal log of different things I've encountered in my life since I was adolescent.
In those journals (some with gaps of a few years) are all sorts of drawings, clippings, things cut out of newspapers or magazines; star charts, attempts at writing short stories, crazy thoughts etc.
People who got a look at those books always commented on my drawings. So, a few years ago when I found myself at a dead end, I decided to go and get an artist's education.
Thing is, I'm no artist. That stuff was all too high-brow for me. I managed to finish well, even though I felt at the end that I was running out of steam. Doing University came hard for me. It was as different from my life before as could possibly be. I'm certainly no artist.
I can go on from here to do an MA in Film if I wish, but not this year!

Anyway, poetry wasn't part of anything for me until a short while ago, when I began looking at creativity that has come out of war. The poems were there and couldn't be ignored (although I was brought up to understand that only a certain type of men write poetry).

I simply feel that the written word has a stronger power than visual art.
For me, anyway. I like to be able to use my own imagination in conjunction with the author's when I am reading a novel or poem.

Do please let me have those book titles - I could use all the help I can get!
In my interview for Uni, a tutor asked me…"Do you have something to say?"
I remember that sometimes.

As for reading, I'm practically suicidal if I haven't got a book to read.
Right now, I'm into China Mieville, John Steinbeck, Stephen King, Ian Banks, Leonard Cohen.
When I was in the worst hell of my life, I read Dostoyevsky's The Idiot
I couldn't write anything then.

Well, thanks for asking - sorry to hand you a f*cking essay. Thing is, I like writing.

Peace,
E

E, Your post is very well-written. Good pace, good vocabulary, good tone. You have your own voice--and that's the most important asset a writer has.

You have given me much to think about, but it is late here in the States, so I must turn in. I did want you to know that I read your excellent post and that I'll reply in detail tomorrow. I cannot imagine reading THE IDIOT when things were "the worst hell of my life." That book might have finished me off! A brilliant novel, but a major downer.

Until the morning.

I picked up The Idiot, because I thought the title was appropriate for me
at that time.
I'd never read any Dostoyevsky before and found it hard going, but it certainly engrossed me.

I also got a laugh out of the looks I got from some of the hierarchy when they glanced at the title on the front cover to see what I was reading.


One saw the name of the author and thought I must be reading Commie propoganda!

The Idiot.

Good morning, E!

You certainly picked the wrong person for potential speed-reading abilities! I am slightly dyslexic, and, therefore, read very slowly. The positive side of this miswiring is that I remember almost everything, and my slow speed allows me to savor individual word choices and the syntax of each sentence. I find your varied phrase structure directly pleasing, and I enjoy your discursive style. Natural writers characteristically think in a lot of directions at once; it's the focusing down to one path that's often the biggest challenge.

About not really using your brain "until a few years ago." I believe this is a misconception common among people who have curiosity and multiple interests. You were likely employing your mind a lot right from the beginning, but you hadn't yet learned to achieve sustained focus--when you wished it. Some--perhaps, much--of the time, it's entertaining and illuminating to let the mind simply float, picking up whatever attracts it. It's through such floating awareness that I pick up many ideas on which to focus and write. The accumulation of your richly eclectic journals may well be an analagous process.

I tell people (who ask!) that I didn't really learn to think until I was around 40. By this I mean that, until my late 30s, I had not discovered how well to utilize all the connections I had been--and continue--accumulating.

Art is a passion of mine, too, although I seldom paint or draw these days. I do think, however, almost continuously, about art, artists, and artistic vision, and I write often about these subjects. You will never regret your studies in this area; it sensitizes one to all kinds of subtle metaphor. Film also fascinates me; my wife and I are both movie junkies, viewing two or three a week. When I was in college, I wrote two filmscripts that classmates shot on various locations around Connecticut and New York. A blast! I was taken along on every shoot, because I might be needed to re-write a scene that turned out to be beyond our technical capabilities--or beyond reason!

Poetry is all about connecting. And it sounds as if you have laid down an admirable base! Dig into it and see what you'd like to share by expanding it through verse.

Some books of poetry that have frequently inspired some of my student writers:

PICNIC LIGHTNING, Billy Collins
ALL OF US, Raymond Carver
VELOCITIES, Stephen Dobyns
THE GOLD CELL, Sharon Olds
THE MOON IS ALWAYS FEMALE, Marge Piercy
THE COMPLETE POEMS, Anne Sexton
THE SELECTED POEMS, James Dickey

These volumes are fairly contemporary--and by American poets. They are chosen for three qualities: imaginative power, singularity of voice, and accessibility. I figure you probably have the British scene covered. If not, I can make suggestions in that area, too.

Hope this is useful. Best wishes!

Evening, Miklos 7

Many thanks for your post and especially your imput. I have never really thought about my sentences in terms of form, etc. I missed most of highschool and although I do have that Fine Art degree, writing my thesis was a nightmare - until I decided to write it as I would tell it. Then it turned out okay. There are a lot of words I don't know, though.

The book titles are fine, as I can order them on amazon - but please feel free to post any others you think I (or anyone else) might benefit from. I would also be interested in any 'creative writing' texts that you recommend.
I like King's 'On Writing' because he makes it all sound possible.

I will go on trying to write poetry, (and read more of it) but I also like the idea of writing short stories.
A2K is a good place to get enthused.

Good luck with yours,
Peace,
E

E, Writing it "as you would tell it" is almost always a winning strategy in expository writing. Such an approach builds naturally, sounds friendly, and communicates directly.

Although some will disagree, I find that the structure of short story and the structure of narrative poems have a lot in common. You may well be able to shift back and forth between the two. Some ideas want to be expressed in verse; others want to be explored in short fiction.

Although the King book is quite good--and encouraging--I have never heard of a single volume on creative writing that has it all. Such a work is not ever going to exist, as each of us has different needs as an artist. You might enjoy looking at any number of the books with titles like WRITERS ON WRITING. I have found comments in these that are so pertinent to my interests that it is as if the authors were personally advising me and urging me forward. You may have the same experience.

Best wishes.

The following is a story written by me and posted on another web site.
I write about a school friend from a time long ago, back in the mid 1940's, I believe the subject of a best pal crosses all borders and is an experience all young lads can relate to.
It is an "out of the blue" first time attempt at writing anything and it would be nice to get some feed back on style and expression from those of you who obviously have some experience of this sort of thing.
I am a retired ships captain in my 70's and I would really like to write about the very interesting life I have experienced during my time as a seafarer

My Best Friend Larry.
Nothing can be said about growing up in Liverpool without a mention of your best mate. Every young person had a best pal, someone to share adventures, a confident to be trusted with your most secret of secrets, that person you felt you had known forever, the kid you always picked, or he picked you when sides were called for … my besseeee mate was Larry Cope.

Larry was six months older than me; I first met him and Ken Langan when I enrolled at Grant Road Modern Secondary School … Larry was ahead of me and in a "B" stream, he was in class 2B and I was in class 1A … what we had in common was sisters, I had eight sisters and Larry had seven, so I never felt out of place when I visited their house which I did daily.

At first it was Larry, me and Ken Langan … Ken lived in the same road as me but he was the same age and in the same class as Larry.
Having come from the city, and a three year stint in an *Approved School*, I wasn't up to speed on country living, for that's how I saw the area around Dovecot, Larry and Ken took me in tow and introduced me to the secrets of catching Rabbits and Wood Pigeons which I was told, could be sold for a good profit … unfortunately we never caught a Rabbit or a Pigeon so I can't really expand on the profitability of their hunting methods but we did have fun.

Larry was into everything but he was never a malicious kid … we tended more towards the Huckleberry Finn type of adventure and we had lots of them, from playing at Jacko's Pond to wandering the countryside that extended from beyond Bowering Park … it was a schoolboys adventure land and we had many adventures.

On the corner of Mossgate Road, where Larry lived, there was a big vacant lot and Larry and I tunnelled under this like a couple of moles … we built elaborate "Dens" with escape hatches, and were extremely lucky not to have been buried alive. God only knows what the escape hatches were for. There are many houses on that land now and I often wonder what the builders thought when they found all these tunnels criss crossing the plot?

Larry got hold of a pipe, I think it may have belonged to his brother-in-law Bill, anyway we would go to the Boundary Bowling Club, sit on the fence and wait for the auld fella's to drop the cigarette butts … then we would collect them, break them up and put the old tobacco pouch, also courtesy of his brother-in-law, to be smoked later when we were in the "Den."

Going home from a day in our underground Den we looked like a couple of Commandos who were ready to make some daring assault … we were bloody filthy, we were black from the dirt with tears running down our smoke stained faces caused by the coughing and spluttering as we smoked the pipe … being grown up had its difficulties and one of the most difficult things was smoking.

We had lots of fun growing up but then puberty came along and spoilt it all, we discovered girls, or they discovered us I can't remember which … we remained friends but were spending more time with girlfriends.

Larry reckoned he loved the smell of pig-**** and always said that he was going to get a Pig Farm when he grew up but it never happened, as soon as he turned sixteen he was off to the Vindicatrix to train as a Marine Steward; once graduated he went on to join the Alfred Holt shipping company and rapidly rose through the ranks to become Ch/Steward.
Six months after he went to the Vindy I went off to the Gravesend National Sea Training School; from there I continued my career as a seaman, jumping ship at Brisbane in 1957 but it wasn't the end of our friendship.

Recently married and living in Brisbane I was working on a Dredge, "The Queen of Holland" that was dredging a channel in the upper reaches of the Brisbane River, and feeling a little homesick I decided to visit the New Farm wharf to see if any Liverpool ships were in port?
I was in luck there was a China boat (Blue Funnel) the "Nestor". Cautiously I walked up the gangway half expecting to be challenged and asked to leave when suddenly I was startled by someone calling my name and asking, "What the hell are you doing here?"
It was Larry, he was Ch/Steward and as delighted to see me as I was to see him … we both got into the ships bar, he behind and me at the front, and proceeded to drink the ship dry … he even had a tray of food brought up for me and just kept the beers coming. It wasn't long before I was pissed out of my brain … I invited Larry to join the wife and I at our flat, an invitation he readily accepted and after filling a canvas bag with bottles of Guinness and cans of Tenants Larger we set off to face my Waterloo, to say my wife wasn't too happy is an understatement; Larry and I were now both blotto and he decided to return to the ship, which was due to sail early the next morning. Not yet having a car, or a licence to drive, I walked him to the tram stop and in my drunken state I stood there waving as he was taken off into the night; me besseeee mate had gone and I didn't know when I would see him again.

Sadly it was many, many years later, just short of my sixtieth birthday, my Mother told me that Larry had a massive stroke and was in a local Nursing Home. On my next visit to England I went to see him.
After phoning the Nursing Home and getting instructions on where to go I finally got into the place and went looking around. Opening a door I asked the nurse, who was tending someone in a chair, where I could find Larry Cope … the fellow in the chair replied saying, "I'm Larry" … I just couldn't believe it, here was my pal, that proud kindly person totally dependant on others, it was too much for me I just had to back out of the room … I stood outside overcome with emotion then after wiping the tears from my eyes I re entered the room and said hello to my old school pal.
I visited Larry every day I was in Liverpool and bought him a tape-recorder with head set so he could listen to his beloved Country and Western music … apart from the love of his sisters that is all Larry had and there was nothing else I could do for him.

A couple of years later I received a phone call from one of his sisters to tell me that Larry had passed away … for a while I was really sad but then I realized that his passing was for the better … he had his dignity back, no longer suffering he was probably trying to make a quid catching Rabbits and Wood Pigeons to flog to the angels … Rest in peace Larry … you were a great best friend and we had some fantastic adventures together.

*Approved School* A juvenile detention center .... school for naughty boys.

Hey anton

I like the idea of writing about someone from the past. A tribute to their memory or just a recollection of their character.

Good writing exercise I think.

Hhmmm....

< thinking back....>

Recollection of character into a written portrait is a great exercise. As almost all effective writing is a sketch (one chooses only the details which one hopes will expand in the reader's mind), it may be useful to keep in mind the old saying about character's being best revealed through small gesture(s). A brilliant book-length (short) example of this process at work is Julian Barnes' FLAUBERT'S PARROT. For shorter examples, one might look at Lytton Strachey's EMINENT VICTORIANS. For often good contemporary examples, one could read on-line recent "Profiles" from The New Yorker.