True teachers are those who use themselves as bridges over which they invite their students to cross; then, having facilitated their crossing, joyfully collapse, encouraging them to create their own. – Nikos Kazantzakis
Maybe thirty years ago, I was about to teach my first class at a coastal writers’ retreat.
‘Feral Writing,’ a particular area of expertise. Finding the wild animal within, basically my whole schtick. Think sick puppy.
Put together a Wild Dog lesson plan.
I’ll be honest.
First rule of writing.
Second rule, oddly enough, is the complete opposite.
So, and this is before the internet, decades before, I researched, how the hell do you teach a writing class?
CLASS. Bring a bundle of yellow pads, a box of pencils and a pencil sharpener to every class. A sheaf of white sheets for the first exercise. Work up a lesson plan schedule. Physically block out your four days of presentation into 15 minute blocks. Make sure every block is full and active.
Offer supplementary exercises. Offer longer exercises which can be reviewed not the next day, but the day after. Offer to meet with any student privately who wishes individual consultation.
AFTER EVERYONE IN THE CLASS IS SEATED, ASK THEM TO STAND. AFTER THEY ARE STANDING, HAVE THEM SIT DOWN AGAIN.
SITTING DOWN IS THE FIRST STEP TO BECOMING A GOOD WRITER.
First day. The promise. My promise.
I guarantee every graduate of my workshop will leave a promising writer, capable of selling his or her own work.
START WITH SERIAL KILLER POEM FROM BOCA RATON POETRY CLASS.
EXERCISES. Put your pencils down when you are done.
1. I need to see you run. Tell me what the blank page means to you. (in 25 words or less.)
Jack D’s answer. Honest and true.
A field of fresh snow at daybreak. The mat for a wrestling match between what I think I am doing and what I eventually do.
2. I am fantasy made flesh and my characters are flesh made words. Best to get your muscles in shape.
Nude modeling for yourself. Draw for me a character sketch of yourself without your clothes.
Now costume your character. How does your character clothe himself? Suggest you try actually putting the clothes on.
Get your character moving.
3. Personal ads. Early 1984, I think, I was invited to guest lecture at a local suburban Portland high school. I was the Director of Public Relations for Nike. Something of a big deal.
Imagine Beaverton High. Thought I was pretty hot shit about that time. But as always authentic and sincere. Which turn out to be my most outstanding features and impossible to monetize.
So, I thought the kids might enjoy learning about the power of words, written and unwritten, via the classified hook-up section of the Willamette Week.
I told the boys, you want to look for the ones that say they enjoy weekends at the beach, lazy breakfasts, snuggling and romantic comedies.
To the girls, I confided, I have no darn idea. Females are a mystery. Perhaps, your ad should let you stay that way.
I know for a fact I was sober but the complaint calls beat me back to 3900 Murray Boulevard. Across from K-Mart.
4. Love Letter (25 words or less, an actual contest.)
INTERVIEW SUCCESSFUL WRITERS, with a lesson to share.
If you had a single piece of advice to give a writer, what would you say?
My problems as a writer. What are they? And how have I addressed them?
A new beginning.
Am I writing? Ask yourself that question more often. Start answering, Yes.
Stay at your desk. Get in the habit of writing.
15 minutes is enough time to write.
List of presentation(s) by title and topic.
Class exercises. Bring laptops if you have them.
(WILL A PRINTER BE AVAILABLE IN THE CLASSROOM?)
Give everyone a dollar for their final assignment.
Buy the best class exercises for a dollar each.
Pay $5! for any special pieces.
Day one. In class. Character study. Your face or mime.
One person cold.
A poem.
Come to class tomorrow with an opening line and a closing line. Your close doesn’t have to be connected to your opening, although a word to the wise suggests a connection would serve you best.
100-word short story.
Exchange stories.
In class, convert to 99 words or less.
300-word short story.
In class, cut story to 250 words or less.
writer’s choice
Reading.
What we cannot do in real life we can do in fiction.
First day. The promise. My promise. I guarantee every graduate of my workshop will leave a promising writer capable of selling his or her own work.
Last day. The students’ promise. “I promise to think like a writer every day. I promise to feel as a writer feels every day. I promise to be a writer every day.”
Make them all stand, raise their right hands and solemnly swear.
Bonus. How do you start a novel?
Atticus Lish: “The first thing I did, my wife and I went out to the cemetery near my house and looked for headstones. I saw the last name Agoglia, and that’s how I got the last name for the villain.”
See, it’s that easy.
Now you’re off to the races!!!
Remember, there are no bad words, only those poorly arranged.