Breaking Radio Silence From Down in the Hole

I received an e-mail yesterday from my master's program. How would I like my name to appear on my diploma?

And the angels sang.

Seems like a good time to break radio silence, or blog lethargy.

A few things could still go wrong, but I think that's a guide with a candle at the end of the tunnel and not the express train.

A few other things are looking positive also, so while life's never perfect, it's nice to lean back for a moment this weekend and draw a deep breath, even as beyond all the times insist on being interesting.

I wish I could find the exact quote, but Alexander Solschenizyn once wrote of looking at apple trees after a rain.

As long as there are moments like that, he noted, it's possible to go on and persevere a little longer.

Amen.

I'm Back

Great week at grad school last week. Came home yesterday. Will probably write more, but for now, let me say it was all fabulous overall.

Walked the beach listening to Sting's Songs from the Labyrinth, watching waves pitch and gulls sail.

Attended great seminars, joined friends for the workshopping of two different plays--read in one because a Southern voice was needed.

Met my new advisor, Ryan Boudinot and participated in the examination of three short stories, element by element in our advising group.

Great conversations, great ideas, loads of fun. Inspiring as always.

Worked out a couple of plot problems on my thesis novel while sipping chai.

Wonderful week. Wonderful world.

The Art of Revision

My MFA advisor and I have had a mini-debate about revision. Nothing serious. It's been intriguing.

As roughly the midpoint of the book I'm working on as a master's thesis made its way down my fingertips, some epiphanies about the main character occurred that meant some changes would be required earlier in the narrative.

He's in the midst of solving a mystery while trying to pick himself up from a failure and cope with what prove to be strange surroundings, secrets and ghosts.

My advisor and I have agreed a slightly different approach in how he goes about things will strengthen the narrative. It's not drastic, but it means some manuscript surgery, and all surgery is major isn't it?

For the defense
My thought was that I should push to the end of the manuscript, solve the mystery, then work on the changes. Both practical and philosophical considerations led my advisor to disagree.

My advisor promised to fight whatever prevailing opinions might arise in faculty meetings on my behalf, but urged that I think about reworking now. The program I'm in requires a change of advisor after two semesters in order to get a fresh set of eyes on a work.

The rebuttal
Practically, the change in advisor without change in manuscript would mean a reader coming to the material cold without a full understanding about how it was "gonna" change, save with a lot of talking to him or her.

On the philosophical front, my advisor felt the final stretch of the work whether sprint, hike or long haul, would benefit from adjustments made earlier in the tale.

I resisted because I've always written first and revised later. A first draft for me is like a minutely detailed outline. (I heard Joe Lansdale say something like that once, but I agree with it.)

After a while, I relented, though. From a pragmatic standpoint, it makes sense to hone now so that over the next several months as I approach a finish, if the universe is willing, the manuscript will be closer to complete and ready for the second reading to really fine tune.

My advisor was right, in part about the benefit.

It's a bit exhilarating, I must admit, to be making some of the surgery now. It's not as easy as having the whole piece to hammer and carve, but, as always with revision, I'm finding small tidbits in the narrative that I can utilize in later chapters. A wink here, a twist there.

In a way, it's like creating an alternate reality or a parallel timeline to the original vision, but that's not so bad. Eventually I should be able to pick and choose the recast scenes, hopefully crafting a stronger and more meaningful work.

It's also a little terrifying. A work of fiction is after all a house of cards. A millimeter change at one point could throw something off at another. To mix in another meataphor, the flapping of a butterfly wing....

Happily that only means more revision, and since "more meaningful" has been a key goal for me in this endeavor, the experimentation is worthwhile. It also demands a little more devotion from me, and challenges additional commitment.

That's a little angst inducing, but, as Christine notes, good things, and creative growth, don't come easy, so a little more commitment from me, meh, couldn't hurt.

Semester's End - Forgive Yourself Your First Draft

I sent my in the final packet of the semester for my creative writing program at Goddard College Wednesday, putting me at about the halfway point on my manuscript/master's thesis/novel and the program for that matter.

As I mentioned to my advisor in one of the five writing packets of the semester, it's like writing a novel as a serial or at least it's working on a first draft with at least one person watching you.

It's an interesting way to do things. You get constant feedback and discussion and have opportunities to discuss--in writing--plot points, themes and characters. For me, it's proving to be a very positive experience.

Writing and Reading

Reading and critical analysis of other books is a significant part of the effort as well, and as you know if you come here often, I've been doing a lot of that too. I heard going into the program that it's a little like that old Far Side Cartoon in which a scientist has an equation sprawled across his blackboard. Numbers and symbols lead step by step through a theory up to step 4 which reads: "Then a miracle occurs."

It's not quite a miracle, but there is something in the process that brings enlightenment, and it's not easy to define. It's not just reading and writing, which I've always done. It's the mixture, with the analysis and the discussion and the periodic gatherings for residencies, which are kind of like extended coffee houses with clusters of writers.

Somewhere around that last packet, it really hit me, and it exorcised some of those demons that torment all of us with fingers on keyboards.

In part, I was reading a book, and a good one, by an author I've known for sometime. I don't think he likes me very much, but that doesn't really matter. It might not matter that I know him, but perhaps it did, knowing he's a flesh and blood guy and not a theoretical Great Writer laboring somewhere with quill and cup of tea.

As I read, I had the epiphany -- the brilliance wasn't all accomplished in the first draft. Every supporting character wasn't as crisp and multi-faceted the first time around. The action at the midway point didn't fall right into place at first. The plot probably wasn't as perfect and precise as he wound things up.

But he got there. He finished the race with a hell of a novel, an achievement both popular and literary, entertaining and thematically rich.

"Forgive yourself your first draft," my advisor told me as we had coffee in one of our official meetings as the semester began.

It's something I've learned even Wilkie Collins might have said. Apparently there was a serious plot/timeline issue with the serialized magazine version of his brilliant page-turner The Woman in White. That was corrected when the story was published in book form but speaking of working in public...What a challenge that must have been.

I knew that fact about first drafts. I've lived through that before, but now I KNOW it, and I understand it in fresh ways, and it's coupled with all of the discussion of character development and through stories that have come from the the time in the trenches the last few months.

It's an interesting journey. My feet are tired, but I will keep walking, because there another half a dessert to cross, one step at a time.

The Sailor is Home from the Sea

Made it home yesterday a.m. after a long 24 hours of traveling and a longer week of workshops and discussions at Goddard in Port Townsend, WA. 

It's hard to describe exactly how it all works, but somewhere in the mix of reading and talking about great books of all sorts and breathing the same air as a host of very, very--I cannot emphasize this enough--very creative people, the energy almost feels mystical. I don't think it is quite mystical, but it's magical, at least.

Highlights

• A two-part workshop called "Wildness of Mind" led me to a short story I might not have written otherwise, a new sort of piece for me. Will have to see what I can do with it with a little polish.
• Exercises in my advising group crystalized the creation of scenes for me.
• One of my fellow students turned me and others on to poet Tao Lin whose work is found here.
• I read a portion of my master's thesis and the flash pieces that appeared here on the blog around Halloween and got good responses on all of them.
• Heard my friend who's a better writer than I'll ever be read two incredible pieces.
• Heard the graduates talk about their experiences and the struggle of creation. Wept.
• Heard faculty, graduates and other students read in numerous settings. Great times.
• Ate a great seafood sit-down meal at Sea-Tac waiting for my flight to leave.

These are wild times. It's good to get away from the world for a while, to escape and think about the things that matter, really matter, matter in the grand scheme of the world and not the moment. 

As much anxiety as the world has to offer, the reminder that there's more, that there's substance and hope is all good.

It's hard, but it's good. 

Gone A Long Journey

I remember reading a columnist or writer of some sort once. He wrote of  taking a train home from prep school at Thanksgiving. That was alien to my experience, and sounded a little melancholy and lonely. That's perhaps why it stuck with me while the rest of the article is lost. I've usually gone to school close to home.

Now, I go a long way, and my literal and symbolic journeys begin again tomorrow. The literal journey is by plane, by boat, by bus, taking me practically off the continent to Port Townsend, WA. 

I'm not really looking forward to the traveling, but I'll take reading material. I have at least an idea of my reading list for the next semester, though it will be molded in discussion with an advisor. 

I've found inspiration for a few titles in a fabulous podcast I discovered recently, Out of the Past, named for the Robert Mitchum classic.

I have not read The Ice Harvest by Scott Phillips, for example. Film and book are subject of one OOTP episode, and I'm hopeful of getting it green-lighted since Goddard is pretty flexible about letting you pursue titles that reflect sensibilities that might benefit your work.

My master's thesis novel  is a Southern Gothic mystery with a hint of magical realism, an effort to create something with perhaps a bit more weight than my early thrillers, so crime and noir have relevance as do works of Faulkner and The Woman In White, as I've mentioned in earlier posts.

There's a reading journey as well, I guess, enfolded inside the travel and extending beyond.

I'm nervous but excited. Both the trip and the journey will be challenging, but it's time to focus again after a little break, time to contemplate character development from new perspectives and points on plot with my professors.

It's a long trip but a good one. 

Miles to go before I sleep and all that but good miles. I'll keep in touch and keep you posted.