Ellen’s
Tip on Writing Seminars
Writing
seminars can be wonderful. I found that out at the first one I attended. The
last one taught me that they can also be deadly.
Let
me explain. I was raised by two university professors of English. My mother was
widely known as the best writing teacher around. In the state at least – maybe
in a wider area. I was always too much in rebellion to check. When I finally
admitted to myself that I needed to follow in the family tradition – that I
wanted nothing more than I wanted to be a published novelist – I didn’t
consider taking writing classes of any type. After all, I was raised by this
adored teacher of writing. Obviously, I already knew it all.
But
I didn’t get published. And I didn’t get published. And the years went by.
Finally,
I went to a convention for readers of
mysteries. (My best unpublished novel was a mystery.) And everyone I met
noticed the city on my nametag and told me how jealous they were that I
actually lived in the host city of
one of the best writers’ events around – the Midwest Writers’ Workshop, in
Muncie, Indiana.
So
I broke down and went to the next one. It’s an annual convention with lots of
sessions, and the day before the convention proper, there are some all-day
seminars. I signed up for one, just to make sure I got the full experience.
I
didn’t expect anything. Yawn. What could I learn in a day, after all my years
of experience, and having grown up with discussions of writing technique around
the dinner table? Ho hum. But I went.
It
was a session by Marcus Sakey on adding suspense to your work. Within a half
hour, I was hooked. By lunchtime, I resented the time away from the lecture. He
taught us techniques I’d never heard of, gave us fast, fun exercises, and just
generally opened up the world for me. I suddenly realized that a lot of my
rejections had been because of the lack of suspense in my books.
The
afternoon exercise was to write about your character going out for coffee, make
it suspenseful, and end with more suspense. What I wrote in that exercise went
into the new book I had in mind, and is in the published (yes, published!)
version unchanged. It’s excerpted at below.
So,
even before I knew that book would get published, I knew that there was a lot
to gain from writing seminars. I could learn new stuff that really helped my
writing! I could talk to other people who were interested in the same things I
was! I could learn from, and make friends with, other authors. I could pitch
agents, editors, and publishers. I was in! I was going to every conference,
seminar, and class I could find.
And
I did. I went to lots of events, made friends, met the publisher who eventually
bought my book, learned a lot, and came home bursting with inspiration.
Until
the last one. I hope it won’t always be my last one. I hope I get my nerve back
up and find new classes and new writing friends, but I certainly had a learning
experience with this one.
I
was traveling for work, and only going home every other weekend. On one of my
away weekends, a writing club was hosting a half-day seminar in the city I was
visiting. What a treat! I signed right up! Best of all, it was just a month
before my book was due to come out. It would be my first time attending as a
real author, and not just a wannabe.
It
was awful. The speaker was egotistical and rude. What she taught had some
value, but it came with such a heavy message of “take my classes or you’ll
never succeed” and “look at me, look at me, look at me” that the useful
information was swamped. Maybe some of the other participants gained from that
session, but it absolutely killed my will to write. Over a year later, the book
I took to that session is still languishing.
So
what’s the tip? Choose well. Go to classes and seminars and conventions that
suit your personality and your needs. Learn what you can, and meet good people.
But before you sign up, research the teacher. Do your due diligence to ensure
that the experience will be one that supports your talent and doesn’t squelch
it. Be open to new experiences and new approaches, but protect yourself too.
You go to learn, not to feed someone else’s ego at the expense of your own
confidence.
written
in Marcus Sakey’s seminar
At eight-ten on the dot, the door opened and Campbell
strode in to fire me. The only suspense was waiting for him to spit it out. I
don’t know why I was so tense. Here I sat, my gut twisting just because he was
ten minutes late. But logically, the worst thing he could do to me was fire me.
People survive that and I would too, even if I couldn’t see how right now.
And he was definitely going to fire me. Lose your
temper—loudly—in a full ballroom at the corporate planning meeting, and the
plan is that you’re out of there.
No surprise that I blew up, and no surprise at all to
get Frazier’s email. Also no surprise, I’d been awake all night with regrets
and fears and mental budgets and crazy plans for making the rent.
But why was I
so strung out that I had coffee cooling in front of me? I
hate coffee, and I haven’t ordered it
since I quit trying to look sophisticated at eighteen. Why was I so rattled
that I had ordered it, as if, instead of simply being conventional wording for
“present yourself to be chewed out and then fired” the email had been a
subliminal command?
Frazier had his coffee now, and was approaching with a
smile. Corporate creep. As he sat down, I noticed that the smile was real, and
he was relaxed. He was outright friendly when he said hello.
I couldn’t stand it. It was too late to worry about
business etiquette anyway. I blurted out, “So you’re firing me. Is there
anything we need to discuss?”
He smiled
wider. “You think I’d let you off so easy? Firing is too good for you. You
proved you’re perfect for the next phase of the project.”
Buy link: http://amzn.com/B00K5AFPE6
You
can find Ellen at:
Twitter: @EllenGraggWebsite: www.ellengragg.com
Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/ellen.gragg#!/WhatWasIThinkingBook
Thanks Ellen, for dropping by and
sharing that great writing seminar tip.
Don’t forget to check back next week
for another tip or tweak.
