I Don't Know Who Came Up with the Toolbelt Idea, but...

...he was basically a genius.

Upon further review, I'm loving the metaphor. I'd like to tweak it a little, though:

Still three belts but I'm changing the names. Journalistic. Narrative. Lyrical.

All adjectives and, therefore, fruitfully more vague.

I also think Narrative works better because it isn't so fraught with connotation as the term Fiction. It's more a mode of organization with less potential for moralistic implications. It's not about Truth and Lies. It's about stories and how you tell them.

The Narrative Tool Belt is the most general one. You can use it to go in either direction--to present objective facts and/or to fashion subjective art. You can use it in nonfiction. You can use it in poems. (And, obviously, it applies to the F-word too: Fiction.) In short, this is where you find the Phillips-head and other oft-used tools like it. When I think of the "tools" of narrative, I think of the list I'm wont to slap up on a whiteboard near you. Click here for a quick rundown/refresher.

The farther you go to either end of my (admittedly artificial) continuum, the more specific your tools need to be. You could write a lyric poem with the Narrative Tool Belt, but it would be like pruning your bushes with a chainsaw. I mean, it kinda-sorta works, but...

That's where you move to one end of the continuum and grab your Lyrical Tool Belt, in which you'll find a heightened attention to language, rhythm, form, image. Narrative and logic gives way to intuitive leaps, resonant juxtapositions of words and images.

And then, on the other end of the continuum, there's the tool belt that we don't don as much as we should. The Journalistic Tool Belt. These tools help you get things down as you see them with at least some semblance of objectivity. There's a feeling that events as they happen resonate by themselves and a subjective interpretation would just get in the way. The specific tools--oft underutilized in the "literary" world--are those of reporting: interviews, research, seeking out interesting or unusual experiences with the express intention of writing about them. Narrative and language take a backseat to an accurate accounting of (so-called) real life.

If you're writing a straight news article for the front page of the New York Times, you'll make a mess for yourself if you use anything but the Journalistic Tool Belt.

Likewise, if you're writing a pure lyric poem, all the interviews in the world won't do you much good. (Neither will an exquisite insight into character, for that matter.)

So here's the takeaway:

In creative nonfiction, you have access to--and use for--every single tool in each of the belts. At all times.

The trick is knowing which ones to use when.

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This Week in Nonfiction Workshop: Aug 25-29

Lots happening this week:

Monday we'll talk about your autobiographical essays and we'll decide the critique order.

Tuesday I'll conference with the first two critique-ees, whose critique drafts will be due by the end of third period on Tuesday, Sep 2. (Yikes.)

Wednesday we'll talk about these essays.

Thursday is "Studio Time." Not to be confused with Study Hall, of course.

Place Essay conference drafts are due from [3] & [4] by the end of third on Friday.

Then we crank up the Critique Machine next week. Whee!

Looking further afield, there's also some reading you need to do. We'll talk about Section I of In Cold Blood on Tuesday, Sep 9.

We're probably not going to get to the D'Agata and Miller essays until Sep 16, but I want you to have them in advance.

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Dude, What Day Is It?

I have a new appreciation for what you guys do. Bread Loaf is not unlike ASFA. Imagine instead that everybody is a creative writer and they're all twenty, thirty, even fifty years older than you are now. All the same things apply, though--not least mental exhaustion. In eleven days or so we've done the work of half a semester. Today we had a workshop in which we discussed three 25-page stories. In 45 minutes, I'm going to a class on line-by-line editing. This morning there was a lecture on Shakespeare. Tomorrow is a class on plotting a novel, and we'll talk about three more stories in my workshop--only one of which I've read, much less commented on--on Friday morning. And, of course, there are readings, readings, and more readings.

ASFA-CW on steroids. But older.

In all, it's been pretty awesome, and I'm looking forward to getting back to apply some of my newfound perspective.

Workers of the world, unite!

Speaking of work: don't forget what you're supposed to be doing.

And don't forget to vote about the crazy apples! Polls have the seed-route way out in front, but that can change in a nanosecond...

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Robert Frost's Apples

I've been hoping I'd have some experience up here that would relate to nonfiction somehow, but nothing has cropped up. So I'll just give you a slice of Bread Loaf life, as seen through the exceedingly subjective lens of one Thomas Allen Jason Beitelman.

Today it's cold and extremely windy. Yesterday it was hot(ish) and everybody went to Robert Frost's farmhouse just down the road. Frost was instrumental in the start of the conference. And he was, like, a writer or something. So to commemorate the occasion, I took a couple of apples that had fallen from some apple trees on his property. They're kind of wormy but they smell great. Just like an apple. These apples smell almost too much like an apple.

At this moment, they are part of a little impromptu sculpture sitting on the bedside table in my room. I also pulled some rocks from a very cold stream when I went on a hike the other day, and they too are part of the sculpture. They're arranged, these apples and stones, in an order I can't explain. The order isn't even especially artful. But it is an arrangement, and I like to look at how the objects go together. This all makes me think of lyric essays, which we'll start to talk about when I get back.

Anyway, now I don't know what to do with these apples. That's where you come in. Respond to the poll to the right before the close of business on Friday. Seriously. How else am I going to be able to make this momentous decision?

What You're Supposed to Be Doing

Here's a quick summation of your tasks while I'm away:

• Write a short autobiography and bring it to class, ready to read, on Monday, Aug 25.
• Start drafting your Place essay. Two of you will submit conference drafts at the end of 8th period on Monday, Aug 25. Do the best you can. Don't worry. Just write. You'll have half the period on Monday to work on it, but don't wait until then to start.
• Read these essays. We'll talk about them on Wednesday, Aug 27.

I'll slap up a few blog posts while I'm in Vermont, just so you know I haven't fled the country. It's the least I can do, really...

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A Typical Week

Monday: Studio Time* / Conferences / Receive Critique Drafts

Tuesday: Studio Time* / Discuss Assigned Readings (if any)

Wednesday: Critique

Thursday: Critique

Conference Drafts Due: End of specialty period on Friday.

Critique Drafts Due: End of third period on Monday.

Submit drafts to my ASFA e-mail account -- tjbeitelman(at)asfa.k12.al.us -- using your own ASFA e-mail account.


* Appropriate uses of "Studio Time," in order:

1. Write/Read for this class.

2. Write/Read for your third period class.

3. Write/Read for yourself. The creative, mindful (as opposed to "destructive, mindless") kind of writing/reading. Those are admittedly subjective terms, so if you are unsure of what I mean, just ask. I'm going to err on your side, though, because I believe that the most important work you do as a student of writing, especially as you segue into more advanced stages, is the stuff that's self-directed.

4. Other homework -- to be honest, this is my least favorite "appropriate" use of "Studio Time." I understand it's the nature of the beast around here, but I want you to strike a balance. The common excuse is that you'll do your creative writing work at another (presumably better) time and place. Okay. But your ASFA creative writing assignments are really only a gateway to your writing life. That whole vast world is yours to make alone, and this (here, now) is such a golden opportunity to really make some headway in that endeavor. See #3 above.

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Where's Beitelman At?

To heck with this "start of school" business: I'm going to Vermont.

From Aug 13 through Aug 24, I'll be attending the Bread Loaf Writers' Conference. Eleven days of workshops, craft lectures, and readings by a range of well-known writers in all genres. Indeed, timing could be better and I apologize for the disruption, but I'm looking forward to getting back on the other side of the workshop table, so to speak. I'm prepared to be humbled and inspired. And, yeah, I hold out hope for a little validation. All necessary conditions for any life-long student of writing. I'll let you know how it goes. I'll slap a few blog posts up here just to let you know I'm still among the land of the living, and maybe to give you an insider's look at some of that fresh-baked Bread Loavian goodness.

So what does all that mean for you? Means I'm basically out of your hair until Aug 25, and you'll have plenty of time to read, write, and think in the interim.

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A Note About Grading Criteria

I'll evaluate you in each of the three categories to the above-right (TCOB [see below], Essay Drafts, and Critiques) twice each quarter. That effectively gives you six grades each nine-weeks, all weighted evenly. I'll also provide you a narrative assessment at each progress report and at the end of each nine-weeks.

In grading your essay drafts, here's what I'm looking for:

• Conference Draft: Your conference draft should be a completed draft. I'm not a word-counter, per se, but you should be in shouting distance of the minimum requirement. With some semblance of an ending. Maybe not the ending, but an ending. I don't expect conference drafts to be perfect, but you do need to show me you've made a good faith effort. If you do all that, you'll get full credit (100 points).
• Critique Draft: Your critique draft should show progress from your conference draft. I see myself as an editor in this process. I give you my educated opinion, and you do the hard work of sifting through it for whatever nuggets of wisdom you can find. The process is organic. I can't tell you exactly what I mean by "progress" because it's different for different pieces. Show me that you've really gotten back in under the hood. Also, critique drafts should be basically free of grammatical errors and typos. I'm not a freak about that, but it does save you the tedium of sifting through a million comments pointing out the same surface-level error. Plus it's a mark of self-respect to show some care in the work you present to your peers. You have a right, then, to expect that very same level of care and respect in return. Do all that and, again, you'll get full credit (100 points).

We'll talk specifically about what I'm looking for in your critiques right after I get back from Vermont, but you know the deal here. Written and oral components. In both cases, I want an insightful, articulate account of your reading experience. Two other adjectives: honest, authentic. And a noun: empathy.

Then, of course, your final portfolio will count for 20% of your final semester grade. The portfolio will consist of a revised, fully polished version of one (1) of your critique essays and a mystery assignment I will reveal later in the semester.

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TCOB?

TCOB: It was Elvis's motto, and if it's good enough for The King, it's good enough for me. It stands for "Taking Care of Business." For our purposes, it's "Class Participation" on steroids. The trouble with your everyday, garden-variety "Class Participation" is it sort of implies that if you just do your work and don't make somebody cry, you'll get full credit for it. Yes, I want you to do your work. No, I don't want you to make anybody cry. But that's an exceedingly low bar, is it not?

What I really want is for you to be a writer:

• Writers show up to do the work.
• Writers engage. Ideas. The human experience. The world.
• Writers have empathy for anyone brave enough to stake a claim to what she/he thinks.
• Writer's know they don't know everything. Not knowing is the fun part.
• Writers pay attention.
• Writers are curious.
• Writers read.
• Writers listen.
• Writers think.
• Writers write. A lot.

Okay, maybe not all writers do all those things. But if you're doing all those things, then you, my friend, are definitely TCOB as far as I'm concerned.

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Your Mission (Part I): Read

Read this from A Public Space.

Read this from Brevity.

Read this from The Believer.

There's not gonna be a test or anything obnoxious like that. ("Dude goes to Vermont and gives us a test when he gets back?!") All I really want you to do is read these and let them stew a little bit. Mostly I want us to start thinking about the idea of subjects and subjectivity. "What do I write about?" and "How (when/where/why) do I write about it?"

Also be able to talk in general terms about which of these (if any) you like and which of these (if any) you don't like. And (because this is the ASFA Creative Writing department, doggone it!) be able to say why.

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Your Mission (Part II): Write

This one has two parts:

Part the First

'Member when you applied to ASFA? We asked you to write an "autobiography" -- though, for some reason, we asked you to do it in third person. (?)

If you were like 96.37% of all applicants, it started something like this:

"On [fill in your birthdate], [fill in your name] was born in [fill in place of birth], and [fill in gender appropriate possessive pronoun] parents were very happy..."

Give or take.

Redeem yourself. At the very least, revise (i.e., re-see) yourself, lo these many years later.

500 - 750 words -- no less, no more -- of well-crafted nonfiction prose that says something fundamental (i.e., True, Essential) about who you are in the here-and-now. No other rules. (It doesn't even have to be in third person!)

Be ready to read it aloud when I get back on Monday, Aug 25. Like, in front of other people. In this room.

Part the Second

You will submit two essays for critique this semester. One shorter (1000 - 1500 words) and one longer (2000 - 3000 words). We'll critique the shorter essays in the first nine weeks and the longer ones in the second nine weeks. So take this opportunity to get started on your first conference draft. Other than the 1000 - 1500 word requirement, here are the parameters:

1. It should be in first person. Actually use "I."

2. The concept of Place should be important to the essay. Allow me to make a few nonbinding suggestions: here, perhaps? Or here? How about -- dare I even say it? -- here! Whatever place you choose, I strongly suggest A) you pick a place you have strong feelings about, one way or another, and B) you spend some time there before/during the writing process. If it's a place far away, do the best you can. Talk to people who are living there. Look at old pictures. Eat food native to the place. And, if all else fails, I guess you could Google it or something.

3. The rest is up to you.

All of you will use some version of this essay for your first conference draft. Two of you lucky souls will submit your conference drafts to my ASFA e-mail account by the close of business on Monday, Aug 25.

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Your Mission (Part III): Think

Fat. Linear. Sense.

Put "non" in front of any of those words and you make their opposites: Nonfat frozen yogurt has no fat in it. Nonlinear means no line, at least not a straight one. And nonsense makes no sense.

By that logic, then, nonfiction is the opposite of fiction.

Run that idea through your noodle for a little bit. Is that statement fundamentally true or false? Can you think of examples that support your stance on the matter? Use your noodlings to start staking out your own definitions of those two terms (fiction and nonfiction) and, just as important, the troubled and/or fertile territory between them.

Think you got it sorted out? Okay, read this. And, while you're at it, also this.

Tomorrow (Tuesday, Aug 12) I want to have a discussion about what we mean by nonfiction. And, while we're at it, we might talk about the BIG IDEA of TRUTH (and its kissin' cousin, REALITY).

(JUSTICE and THE AMERICAN WAY will have to wait, but we'll get to them too...)

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