THE STORMING BOHEMIAN PUNKS THE MUSE: curing creative snobbery
Creative writing class. That is a phrase that evokes in me some very ambivalent reactions. I’ve taken a few, and some of them have been really good. Others were nightmares.
I have always had a mixed reaction to discussions of craft when it comes to writing or painting. They seem so unworthy of the deep feelings I bring to these fields. It doesn’t bother me to read about craft on such matters as candle making, say, or basket weaving, or, um, journalism. But the craft of poetry? The craft of abstract painting? Oh no. These are matters of soul, not to be cheapened with the tawdry quotidian bother of drill and formula.
In short, your Storming Bohemian is a creative snob.
Fortunately, there are some lovely books and teachers out there who have countered this regrettable tendency. For painting, there is nothing like local artist Todd Brown‘s painting workshop, “The Art Of Not Knowing” which I have recommended before. And then there is the classic book The Art Spirit by the great American painter and teacher Robert Henri (pronounced “Henry”—avoid the French pronunciation and you have taken a giant step away from uninformed cultural snobbery).
Countless writers have benefitted from Los Angeles teacher Jack Grapes’ workshops on “The Craft of the Invisible Form” (there’s that cringe producing “craft” word again).
Back in February, at the Santa Cruz Poetry Festival, I met east bay writing teacher Andy Couturier, who has written an unusually good book of writing exercises: Writing Open the Mind: Tapping the Subconscious to Free the Writing and the Writer. That’s a lot of title for a book that covers a lot of ground.
Couturier is an unusual guy, a student of both improvisational theater and Buddhist meditation, an expert on the Japanese countercultural movement toward simpler rural living and a writer of essays published in both The Japan Times and The North American Review.
His book of writing exercises includes eleven chapters with intriguing names, such as: “Shaking Up The Curmudgeon”, “Sway” and “Shatter/Scramble”. The individual technique exercises have equally fascinating titles, including: “Wild and Stuffy”, “The Great Gateway of Dissonance” and “Turn and Look Again; Turn and Look Again”.
Each technique is presented in four parts: First, an introduction to the exercise. Then, a carefully detailed set of instructions called “Try It!”, followed by “Questions for the Curious” for those who want to reflect on the exercise, and, finally, “The Mind Of It” discussing the theory behind the technique.
I have been experimenting with Couturier’s exercises for the past few weeks and have not yet found a dud. Readers of this column may recall that I actually recommended one of his exercises a few weeks ago.
I heartily recommend Couturier’s book for those that are looking for a crafty tuneup and a means of putting the inner snob in hir place.
Do you have some favorite craft books to recommend?
– Charles Kruger
The Storming Bohemian
As a Creative Writing major, one with only one bad class, I’m sorry your few forays have produce ambivalence and “nightmare” experiences. I am also an Instructional Aide in SFSU’s CW Department. Study of craft of poetry, enhances the art. Understanding of and employment of craft elements have improved my writing and my appreciation of the writing of others’. I think, clutch the pearls, may disagree here. That’s fine. “Creative writing class” to me means: work, emotional sizzle, critical feedback based in craft language, craft elements and adding more tools to my writer’s bag and more work.
Matthew – did you read the whole article? I said that some of the classes were really good and recommended some specific books and teachers. Did you not detect the ironical tone in which I characterized a tendency to look down on “creative writing classes” as “snobbery” and suggested that this could be cured with some good classes and excellent books.
I am not putting down classes and books—in fact, the point of the article is precisely the opposite!
Yes Charles, I read the whole article. Did you not detect the distinction I was making between a college and not? And I’m certainly not suggesting college is the only or best way to become a better writer. I’m not ambivalent, that’s all. I can only base my lack of ambivalence on my positive experience, and where it is taking me. I suggest The Lab with Matthew Clark Davison. He is versed in craft and also teaches at SFSU. There is a Facebook page, I believe there is still room for the class beginning soon.
Oh, I see! We really are both enthusiastic about classes and workshops and craft. My “ambivalence” is a kind of hipster stance that I admit to sometimes falling into that I think is really just snobbery. I’m not defending it, but intending to poke fun at myself for it and suggest that the cure is to put it aside and find some good classes.
Thank for making recommendations! That was really what I was hoping for in response to this article and I really appreciate your weighing in! From all that I hear, The Lab is a wonderful workshop.
Sorry if I was a bit defensive and snarky with my “did you read the whole article” crack! But then, I am admittedly not only a bohemian but also a bit of a punk.
Does anybody else have workshops or books to recommend? Your comments are most welcome!
Here’s fodder for more discussion:
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/25/magazine/why-talk-therapy-is-on-the-wane-and-writing-workshops-are-on-the-rise.html?_r=2&pagewanted=all
Pretty thought provoking stuff!
At the risk of being controversial, my go-to craft book is Story, by Robert McKee. In fact, I’ve read it five times. I have pasasges highlighted, and I created a 3-page study guide to remind me of some of his key points. Before McKee, I had yet to come across anyone who talked about story in such a nuts and bolts, brass tacks way. As a hard-headed Scot myself, I really appreciate that. There are a lot of touchy-feely you can do it! books on writing out there, but not many people have the intellectual discipline and insight of Robert McKee.
[…] literary survey courses, pinched and poked and prodded by uncreative creative writing instructors (fortunately, I found some good ones, too) deflated some of my natural buoyancy. Not entirely, I’m glad to say. Something always […]