Gillian Polack's Blog, page 119
April 13, 2013
How to Avoid Gillian at Conflux - An Updated Guide for the Perplexed (and Cautious)
I have most of my Conflux programme, so here's my nicely-updated annual guide to Gillian-avoidance.
Thursday 25 April -
12pm-3pm workshop Writing with the five senses
"Have you ever wanted to describe a feast where your readers can almost smell the food, and feel the texture of the crusty bread as your hungry character couldn’t wait for dinner, but ripped the end off the loaf? How about being able to hear the footsteps echoing up a stairwell? Or have someone walk through the snow, the wet cold seeping through her boots while she sticks out her tongue to taste the snowflakes? Writing that engages your readers’ senses draws your reader into your work. It helps the reader hear your voice clearly. It reinforces your tale and makes your characters more real. This workshop will take you through the five senses and start you on the road to using them effectively in your writing."
NOTE: I will be bringing chocolate. If no-one wants to do my workshop, I eat all the chocolate. By myself. Also, this is the live version of the course that got rave reviews from the ASFFWA. This is the only time I will be teaching it at Conflux. If you want to avoid me, though, there are four other perfectly delightful workshops on at the same time.
10 pm Taboo subjects for authors - panel. I am the serious member of the panel who will try to discuss deep cultural taboos. I will also be the one with chocolate. When people fail to take my jokes seriously, I shall throw the chocolate. I have not yet told any of this to the other panellists.
Friday 26 April
11 am Kaffeeklatsche - where I shall chat with all and sundry (but only if they're signed up for this, of course). I might bring some Medievalish things to chat about, if anyone's interested. Or I may not. My indecision helps you avoid me, for the other kaffeeklatsches at this time are hosted by far more decisive people (Garth Nix and Nalo Hopkinson, who are both hugely entertaining and wildly interesting - so you don't really want to avoid me so much as head straight for them)
12.30 pm Panel – The politics of steampunk. Where Richard Harland will be splendid and I will remain Gillian.
1.30 pm Mass book signing. I think I'm involved in this. I'm not quite sure. There will be Conflux cookbooks on sale, though, and copies of various anthologies which are unlucky enough to contain stories by me. You can my Ms Cellophane on your computer and I'll sign you a Kathleen Jennings bookplate. If anyone asks in advance, I can find copies of Illuminations. No-one ever asks me to sign my academic stuff, which I think is a good sign of potential Gillian-avoidance.
6 pm Book launch - Next (in which I have a story). There are rumours of champagne...
7 pm Regency Gothic Banquet. (I shall have a costume thanks to the generosity and improvisational skills of Donna. I was going to come as a Timelord, but am now not.)
Saturday 27 April
11.30 am Using history to inspire fiction Jenny Blackford is chairing this, and it's going to be a doozy of a panel. Lots of rather good writers who use history...and me.
Sunday 28 April
12.30 pm Defining the essentials of a short story.
And that's all the formal stuff. I am involved in other stuff, less formal, but you don't have to make special efforts to avoid me then, just kind of slip out of slight before I can see you...
Thursday 25 April -
12pm-3pm workshop Writing with the five senses
"Have you ever wanted to describe a feast where your readers can almost smell the food, and feel the texture of the crusty bread as your hungry character couldn’t wait for dinner, but ripped the end off the loaf? How about being able to hear the footsteps echoing up a stairwell? Or have someone walk through the snow, the wet cold seeping through her boots while she sticks out her tongue to taste the snowflakes? Writing that engages your readers’ senses draws your reader into your work. It helps the reader hear your voice clearly. It reinforces your tale and makes your characters more real. This workshop will take you through the five senses and start you on the road to using them effectively in your writing."
NOTE: I will be bringing chocolate. If no-one wants to do my workshop, I eat all the chocolate. By myself. Also, this is the live version of the course that got rave reviews from the ASFFWA. This is the only time I will be teaching it at Conflux. If you want to avoid me, though, there are four other perfectly delightful workshops on at the same time.
10 pm Taboo subjects for authors - panel. I am the serious member of the panel who will try to discuss deep cultural taboos. I will also be the one with chocolate. When people fail to take my jokes seriously, I shall throw the chocolate. I have not yet told any of this to the other panellists.
Friday 26 April
11 am Kaffeeklatsche - where I shall chat with all and sundry (but only if they're signed up for this, of course). I might bring some Medievalish things to chat about, if anyone's interested. Or I may not. My indecision helps you avoid me, for the other kaffeeklatsches at this time are hosted by far more decisive people (Garth Nix and Nalo Hopkinson, who are both hugely entertaining and wildly interesting - so you don't really want to avoid me so much as head straight for them)
12.30 pm Panel – The politics of steampunk. Where Richard Harland will be splendid and I will remain Gillian.
1.30 pm Mass book signing. I think I'm involved in this. I'm not quite sure. There will be Conflux cookbooks on sale, though, and copies of various anthologies which are unlucky enough to contain stories by me. You can my Ms Cellophane on your computer and I'll sign you a Kathleen Jennings bookplate. If anyone asks in advance, I can find copies of Illuminations. No-one ever asks me to sign my academic stuff, which I think is a good sign of potential Gillian-avoidance.
6 pm Book launch - Next (in which I have a story). There are rumours of champagne...
7 pm Regency Gothic Banquet. (I shall have a costume thanks to the generosity and improvisational skills of Donna. I was going to come as a Timelord, but am now not.)
Saturday 27 April
11.30 am Using history to inspire fiction Jenny Blackford is chairing this, and it's going to be a doozy of a panel. Lots of rather good writers who use history...and me.
Sunday 28 April
12.30 pm Defining the essentials of a short story.
And that's all the formal stuff. I am involved in other stuff, less formal, but you don't have to make special efforts to avoid me then, just kind of slip out of slight before I can see you...
April 12, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-04-13T15:00:00
I am not that well today, although I can now take small sips of water, which is an improvement. And I'm out of bed. This is my body's method of making sure I get quality time off, for some very curious values of 'quality.' My big hope is that I am finally hitting menopause, for, if I'm not, why on earth should I undergo 20 days of PMT? That's not the trouble today, of course, but it's the lead-up to it.
So, what am I doing with my unexpected time out? Sleeping, mostly. I am just up to using the computer, so there'll be work later in my day, but not until the dizziness lets go. Mostly I'm watching DVDs from the library. The current one calls itself "Empire."
I've been hearing a lot of people say rude things about the British Empire in relation to their homelands (much of which is deserved, but some of which is rather odd) and I want to think a bit about why the British Empire is castigated as colonialist so much more than the Roman, or the American (which was never technically an empire, but was still colonial and etc), and, in a more limited way (mainly for this region) Australia, or the various countries of Africa that turned towards power-mongering and culture-hogging at various times. I'm hoping to find in the subtext to the documentary series some of the reasons why the British get so much more public condemnation. I've heard French people castigate the British Empire, and people from the dominant and advantaged cultures in their own countries blame the British for their terrible lot. But the Empire was, technically, dismantled a fair while ago. While often these complaints are really solidly justified (because some disastrous stuff was done in the name of the British Empire, and it still has consequences) but just as often the British Empire has become an excuse, a "Let's blame it on someone - look, the British."
Why this is my question of the week is because I finally saw Master and Commander and I was totally bewildered that an US ship had to become French, for having a US ship in the movie was not a good thing.
It's been an underlying question of mine for a long time. I come from a non-dominant group culturally, and one that is assumed to be way culturally advantaged and is, just as much as we are culturally disadvantaged - we're a very curious bunch of cultures, Jews in English-speaking countries. I think a bit of the same is being done unto the British. The relic of the Empire is indeed a White British advantage. But, at the same time, it's never been an advantage that all the British experienced. Australia is such a very UKish society because we're one of the places that people fled to, to escape starving on the streets and spending a life in despair.
My Indigenous friends have the best attitude I've come across. They admit invasion and the awful things that were done (and are still being done, in some quarters) but they talk about walking together. I've never been blamed for my bit of British ancestry by any of my Indigenous friends, while I've been blamed in spades for it by others. They're not the ones who say "You need to go back to where you came from."* This is complicated (much more than a summary looks) and I'm thinking about that, too. But not today.
All this anti-British vitriol makes even thinking about walking together much more difficult. The Commonwealth, as an institution, tries for it,** but it's perpetually undermined by anger, whether it's justified anger from very real suffering or brand new stuff that comes from a culture of perceived wrong. There must be reasons for this culture of perceived wrong. And I need to know more about these reasons. One TV series isn't going to give me answers, but since I feel rather under the weather today, it's a start.
*Which is Melbourne, as I always explain. "Your parents, then." "Still Melbourne."
** I was the cross-cultural trainer for local public servants handling a major Commonwealth meeting once, and it was an eye-opener. 48 countries really do try to find common ground on an ongoing basis.
ETA: Yep, this series is handy. Australians provided "Imperial troops" in 1917. There's an image of Britain out there that is only loosely linked to reality (Australia was mostly-indie by 1917: the troops were Australian). I need to actually get books on this subject (when I get time).
So, what am I doing with my unexpected time out? Sleeping, mostly. I am just up to using the computer, so there'll be work later in my day, but not until the dizziness lets go. Mostly I'm watching DVDs from the library. The current one calls itself "Empire."
I've been hearing a lot of people say rude things about the British Empire in relation to their homelands (much of which is deserved, but some of which is rather odd) and I want to think a bit about why the British Empire is castigated as colonialist so much more than the Roman, or the American (which was never technically an empire, but was still colonial and etc), and, in a more limited way (mainly for this region) Australia, or the various countries of Africa that turned towards power-mongering and culture-hogging at various times. I'm hoping to find in the subtext to the documentary series some of the reasons why the British get so much more public condemnation. I've heard French people castigate the British Empire, and people from the dominant and advantaged cultures in their own countries blame the British for their terrible lot. But the Empire was, technically, dismantled a fair while ago. While often these complaints are really solidly justified (because some disastrous stuff was done in the name of the British Empire, and it still has consequences) but just as often the British Empire has become an excuse, a "Let's blame it on someone - look, the British."
Why this is my question of the week is because I finally saw Master and Commander and I was totally bewildered that an US ship had to become French, for having a US ship in the movie was not a good thing.
It's been an underlying question of mine for a long time. I come from a non-dominant group culturally, and one that is assumed to be way culturally advantaged and is, just as much as we are culturally disadvantaged - we're a very curious bunch of cultures, Jews in English-speaking countries. I think a bit of the same is being done unto the British. The relic of the Empire is indeed a White British advantage. But, at the same time, it's never been an advantage that all the British experienced. Australia is such a very UKish society because we're one of the places that people fled to, to escape starving on the streets and spending a life in despair.
My Indigenous friends have the best attitude I've come across. They admit invasion and the awful things that were done (and are still being done, in some quarters) but they talk about walking together. I've never been blamed for my bit of British ancestry by any of my Indigenous friends, while I've been blamed in spades for it by others. They're not the ones who say "You need to go back to where you came from."* This is complicated (much more than a summary looks) and I'm thinking about that, too. But not today.
All this anti-British vitriol makes even thinking about walking together much more difficult. The Commonwealth, as an institution, tries for it,** but it's perpetually undermined by anger, whether it's justified anger from very real suffering or brand new stuff that comes from a culture of perceived wrong. There must be reasons for this culture of perceived wrong. And I need to know more about these reasons. One TV series isn't going to give me answers, but since I feel rather under the weather today, it's a start.
*Which is Melbourne, as I always explain. "Your parents, then." "Still Melbourne."
** I was the cross-cultural trainer for local public servants handling a major Commonwealth meeting once, and it was an eye-opener. 48 countries really do try to find common ground on an ongoing basis.
ETA: Yep, this series is handy. Australians provided "Imperial troops" in 1917. There's an image of Britain out there that is only loosely linked to reality (Australia was mostly-indie by 1917: the troops were Australian). I need to actually get books on this subject (when I get time).
April 11, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-04-12T16:56:00
Today is all about follow-up. I followed up one of yesterday's issues with the insurance people (to keep them in the loop) and it appears that I am the very first person for this to happen to in their history of precedents, so my case has been kicked upstairs for a decision. I explained very carefully and clearly that I do not want this to become a retribution cycle or turn into a blame-game and they agreed with me. It was all very pleasant, albeit requiring much time.
The time taken meant that my messages will have to wait til tomorrow, which is not such a bad thing. It means I can do something that I've put off for days, because it's so depressing. I hate Yom HaShoah, but very year I commemorate it. This year I'm commemorating it with films, and just haven't had a chance to stop and pay attention until today (which is a few days late). I'm not terribly good at dealing with direct Holocaust stuff (I used to be better, but life brings some things into the realm of perpetual possibility, which makes it hard to accept a remembrance) so I borrowed Chariots of Fire and Daniel Deronda from the library. Since neither of them is quite close enough in theme, I've also borrowed something about Anne Frank, but I don't know how much of it I'll get through. It's about time I saw the first two movies, but next year I'll return to my older habit of reading to commemorate. The trouble with films is that it always reflects a popular view and that brings far too many problems for Yom HaShoah.
While I'm watching, I'm regaining some of that missing manual dexterity. My very special process to get some of that dexterity back has already paid dividends in terms of my little finger. It's now working almost as normal. It just needed the reminder that it was allowed to function, it seems. My typing is a little less fallible, too, and I'm only two weeks into my amazing regime.
There is a downside to all this regaining of function. I have paper toys that need homes. Ger has kindly adopted a dog that nods its head. I have an almost-jumping kangaroo and joey currently in search of a home and am making a cat today, for cats are comforting.
This is not a long-term hobby. The toys are all warped and wobbly, because of the combination between eye damage and hand damage. But each is better than the last and they're making a big difference to my capacity to do things. So... warped toys in need of good homes...
After that, I'll return to making lace, for I have a queue of friends who were hoping for lace if ever I took it up again. My hands are almost dexterous enough for it already, but I need to have more confidence in my eyesight.
I guess today is all about regaining some of myself, after previous interesting situations. All today's work fits into that classification, too, for it's all about damaged pasts as well. I don't accept all damage as permanent.
A friend was encouraging me to give up on all this the other day, and apply for a public service job again. She didn't know I was making wobbly toys, though..
The time taken meant that my messages will have to wait til tomorrow, which is not such a bad thing. It means I can do something that I've put off for days, because it's so depressing. I hate Yom HaShoah, but very year I commemorate it. This year I'm commemorating it with films, and just haven't had a chance to stop and pay attention until today (which is a few days late). I'm not terribly good at dealing with direct Holocaust stuff (I used to be better, but life brings some things into the realm of perpetual possibility, which makes it hard to accept a remembrance) so I borrowed Chariots of Fire and Daniel Deronda from the library. Since neither of them is quite close enough in theme, I've also borrowed something about Anne Frank, but I don't know how much of it I'll get through. It's about time I saw the first two movies, but next year I'll return to my older habit of reading to commemorate. The trouble with films is that it always reflects a popular view and that brings far too many problems for Yom HaShoah.
While I'm watching, I'm regaining some of that missing manual dexterity. My very special process to get some of that dexterity back has already paid dividends in terms of my little finger. It's now working almost as normal. It just needed the reminder that it was allowed to function, it seems. My typing is a little less fallible, too, and I'm only two weeks into my amazing regime.
There is a downside to all this regaining of function. I have paper toys that need homes. Ger has kindly adopted a dog that nods its head. I have an almost-jumping kangaroo and joey currently in search of a home and am making a cat today, for cats are comforting.
This is not a long-term hobby. The toys are all warped and wobbly, because of the combination between eye damage and hand damage. But each is better than the last and they're making a big difference to my capacity to do things. So... warped toys in need of good homes...
After that, I'll return to making lace, for I have a queue of friends who were hoping for lace if ever I took it up again. My hands are almost dexterous enough for it already, but I need to have more confidence in my eyesight.
I guess today is all about regaining some of myself, after previous interesting situations. All today's work fits into that classification, too, for it's all about damaged pasts as well. I don't accept all damage as permanent.
A friend was encouraging me to give up on all this the other day, and apply for a public service job again. She didn't know I was making wobbly toys, though..
gillpolack @ 2013-04-12T11:31:00
I had more not-so-good news this morning (not exceptionally bad, but it had Implications and I'm tired of Implications) but it came so very early that I decided to go back to bed and to start Friday again. So far, so good. And, given the nature of this week, I probably needed a bit of extra bed rest. It has been a challenging week on many fronts.
I have sorted out some rather good techniques for my Conflux workshop (what I did with the extra bed rest) and I'm hoping to get enough students so that we can enjoy what I'm going to teach. I've worked out how to kick the writing using the five senses up a notch, basically. It works (as a writing method) far more for literary end writers than for pure genre writers (other than horror), largely because many genre writers don't think about language from the right direction. I've now found the right direction... I won't have to fight against them saying "I don't need to write like this" (most of them say it deep in their hearts, but occasionally it gets said to my face) and from my new set of exercises it should be 100% clear when and how using more than one sense in their writing can improve the story and the characterisation and the reader experience.
So my Conflux workshop is going to be fun and useful. This is good, for I wanted to take cake (given it's on my birthday) but don't think I can. My houseguests arrive a bit earlier than I thought and the cooking time has eroded.
My tasks for the rest of the day are all job applications and a manuscript evaluation and the Beast and (if I have time) tax. I'll be honest and admit I just want to sleep some more, it having been that kind of week. Time for coffee, I fear.
I have sorted out some rather good techniques for my Conflux workshop (what I did with the extra bed rest) and I'm hoping to get enough students so that we can enjoy what I'm going to teach. I've worked out how to kick the writing using the five senses up a notch, basically. It works (as a writing method) far more for literary end writers than for pure genre writers (other than horror), largely because many genre writers don't think about language from the right direction. I've now found the right direction... I won't have to fight against them saying "I don't need to write like this" (most of them say it deep in their hearts, but occasionally it gets said to my face) and from my new set of exercises it should be 100% clear when and how using more than one sense in their writing can improve the story and the characterisation and the reader experience.
So my Conflux workshop is going to be fun and useful. This is good, for I wanted to take cake (given it's on my birthday) but don't think I can. My houseguests arrive a bit earlier than I thought and the cooking time has eroded.
My tasks for the rest of the day are all job applications and a manuscript evaluation and the Beast and (if I have time) tax. I'll be honest and admit I just want to sleep some more, it having been that kind of week. Time for coffee, I fear.
April 10, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-04-10T21:28:00
I had so much to say today, but instead am going to veg. A new course yesterday, a double session (and a bit) today. A large museum's worth of walking. Two meetings. A bunch of deadlines met (but more tomorrow and Friday) and I am a little bit tired.
This means you may never hear my students' reaction to Clara Butt, Nellie Melba and a 1913 music hall star (of course I made them listen to all three - it's good for their writing), or how we agonised over Australia's particular form of bigotry and how we analysed styles of lace (my male students were particularly interested). Or how one of the museum staff was just extraordinarily nice to us, for he knows the work of BCS for he has a close rello who uses our services. We were given totally star treatment.
The new exhibit at the National Museum (Glorious Days - Australia in the year 1913) is really good. Perfect for teaching writers from, in fact. So I did lots of teaching of writers from it, and got to see it properly myself, at the same time. Most of my regular students have already made plans to go back and think some more. There are so many reasons why this class is my favourite: this is just one of them. My students often use excursions as the dipping toes into the water and then go revisit in their own time and check everything out at their leisure. Their approach to learning is lovely.
Anyhow, I don't teach writing now until Conflux. And banquet bookings close tomorrow for Conflux and there are places in my Conflux workshop and, apart from Conflux and my Tuesday course I'm doing nothing for a fortnight. Nothing, I tell you. Except that I just lied and I have so many things to do I can't even make lists for them. I do have a list for tomorrow, however, and it includes some way exciting things. I may report on them...if they don't leave me too tired.
I shall make myself a cuppa and watch ancient TV. Brainlessly, for I have no brain left. It's all been taught out of me.
This means you may never hear my students' reaction to Clara Butt, Nellie Melba and a 1913 music hall star (of course I made them listen to all three - it's good for their writing), or how we agonised over Australia's particular form of bigotry and how we analysed styles of lace (my male students were particularly interested). Or how one of the museum staff was just extraordinarily nice to us, for he knows the work of BCS for he has a close rello who uses our services. We were given totally star treatment.
The new exhibit at the National Museum (Glorious Days - Australia in the year 1913) is really good. Perfect for teaching writers from, in fact. So I did lots of teaching of writers from it, and got to see it properly myself, at the same time. Most of my regular students have already made plans to go back and think some more. There are so many reasons why this class is my favourite: this is just one of them. My students often use excursions as the dipping toes into the water and then go revisit in their own time and check everything out at their leisure. Their approach to learning is lovely.
Anyhow, I don't teach writing now until Conflux. And banquet bookings close tomorrow for Conflux and there are places in my Conflux workshop and, apart from Conflux and my Tuesday course I'm doing nothing for a fortnight. Nothing, I tell you. Except that I just lied and I have so many things to do I can't even make lists for them. I do have a list for tomorrow, however, and it includes some way exciting things. I may report on them...if they don't leave me too tired.
I shall make myself a cuppa and watch ancient TV. Brainlessly, for I have no brain left. It's all been taught out of me.
April 9, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-04-09T22:36:00
I'm beyond tired, but I'm smiling so very much. I finally asked a friend if she would mind looking at one particular character in my time travel novel to check for problems. I have a small change to make (he needs his flag! somehow, somewhere - and I have already worked out a way that I can put it in seamlessly) and he's right. So right is he that even his name stays ("It's a strong name," Sam said, "and the similarity with the Murri shows his background."). That similarity was one of the things I was worried about - I thought I was maybe being offensive. But no, I'm not. She read the novel in a gulp and interpreted all the nuances I put into his character the exact way I meant them. When someone who could be the character's favourite cousin 'gets' a character then it's OK.
This is the one check I didn't make during the doctorate: I was too nervous. All the discussion about race that's been floating around made me wonder if I was being really stupid making such an important character from a group to which I totally don't belong. But this novel is part of my thinking about colonialism, and alien encounters, and I totally wanted to address some of my own issues on these matters. And besides, some of the coolest guys I've ever met come from this background and why aren't *they* the cool guys in novels instead of WASPish gentlemen? And so I asked Sam and she was totally wonderful and now I know the novel is fine. It just needs to find a publisher.
This is the one check I didn't make during the doctorate: I was too nervous. All the discussion about race that's been floating around made me wonder if I was being really stupid making such an important character from a group to which I totally don't belong. But this novel is part of my thinking about colonialism, and alien encounters, and I totally wanted to address some of my own issues on these matters. And besides, some of the coolest guys I've ever met come from this background and why aren't *they* the cool guys in novels instead of WASPish gentlemen? And so I asked Sam and she was totally wonderful and now I know the novel is fine. It just needs to find a publisher.
April 8, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-04-09T10:42:00
Yesterday I forgot to blog. I did so many other things, though, that I shall not regard this as the end of the world.
Today, I look at my eleven piles of paper and wonder why I have eleven piles of paper at all. I meant to tackle five of them yesterday, and so I did, but they're still surrounding my desk in scribbled-on snow until I've finished with them. If I can finish with two of them by lunchtime, that will have to suffice. The other three are the next stage of my tax, and will be displaced, after lunch, by my new course, for today is the first day of a new batch of students having to hear my wonderfully hilarious jokes. I have all the papers collected on my computer, but they're not fashioned into student handouts of Gillian-notes yet, which is why my tax is not this afternoon's work.
As ever, on my way to focussed endeavour, my mind drifts. It's thinking about teaching techniques, which it really ought not be for a couple of hours.
I've been watching a few people move from being students into being teachers. It happens very regularly in the writing world. If one can write, then one can teach writing. And this is true... but it's also problematic. I've noticed that we tend to carry our approach to writing over to our teaching and in several cases, I've seen this create writing teachers who teach a very particular skill. They don't teach people how to write, they teach them to write the way they themselves write.
It's like watching an editor impose their own style and story beliefs on stories. Some of the teachers suggest plot arcs instead of teaching students how to find their own, while some use those blog digests of skills ('10 ways of being a better writer' - 'Six tools to create great characters'). Some use other techniques or even a mix of techniques.
Let's take the blogposts as an example: by themselves these blogposts are good. Used as firm writing advice without proper counterbalance and context, they develop a pattern of thought in the minds of the students, and that one is not one that searches out their own style and their own stories, but it fixed firmly on "What others tell me is better than what I can find for myself." Yet it is the self-discovery that's the magic part of learning writing and it's the capacity for never-ending self-discovery that is so crucial to the amazing writer.
I need to remember this for my own teaching. I need to make sure I don't ever produce a thousand Gillians (it's harder for me to do this, I admit, for my style is quite distinctive, but any teacher can produce lookalike students with the right method) but that I give writers tools they need to develop their own styles and write in their preferred genres.
This is one of my concerns with creating look-alike writers: it produces very narrow writing choices for the reader. Another is that it lowers the horizon: new writers don't learn to reach as far or to fly as high. It stifles creativity by harnessing that creativity to one writer's concept of what is either their own style or the style of their favourite author. There isn't just one way of achieving this set of limitations.
The ways of hampering new writers are numerous. They do all boil down to teaching not thought through. "I can teach this in this manner" without considering the consequences. One workshop in any manner is unlikely to hurt, but a regular series of courses or an eight week program or a semester is going to set up habits and expectations in the mind of the learner-writer. That's what they're for, mostly, is to teach good habits.
It's worrying me that not all the habits I'm seeing being taught are good habits. As my violin teacher said to me when I was sixteen "If you want to actually play, you're going to have to learn all over again, for right now you're never going to improve beyond a certain point. All those bad techniques will get in the way of you becoming a musician." I gave up music at that point, for debating was easier, but the lesson stuck.
The arts are underpinned by strong tuition, and we aren't currently being nearly careful enough about the nature and shape of tuition outside universities. Teachers themselves need to learn and that learning involves a set of skills that writers seldom innately possess. I learned some of this from my formal teaching qualification and quite a bit more in my fifteen years of formal teaching since then. My mother might have been a teacher, but I had to learn this set of skills. And it seems others have to learn them, too.
Today, I look at my eleven piles of paper and wonder why I have eleven piles of paper at all. I meant to tackle five of them yesterday, and so I did, but they're still surrounding my desk in scribbled-on snow until I've finished with them. If I can finish with two of them by lunchtime, that will have to suffice. The other three are the next stage of my tax, and will be displaced, after lunch, by my new course, for today is the first day of a new batch of students having to hear my wonderfully hilarious jokes. I have all the papers collected on my computer, but they're not fashioned into student handouts of Gillian-notes yet, which is why my tax is not this afternoon's work.
As ever, on my way to focussed endeavour, my mind drifts. It's thinking about teaching techniques, which it really ought not be for a couple of hours.
I've been watching a few people move from being students into being teachers. It happens very regularly in the writing world. If one can write, then one can teach writing. And this is true... but it's also problematic. I've noticed that we tend to carry our approach to writing over to our teaching and in several cases, I've seen this create writing teachers who teach a very particular skill. They don't teach people how to write, they teach them to write the way they themselves write.
It's like watching an editor impose their own style and story beliefs on stories. Some of the teachers suggest plot arcs instead of teaching students how to find their own, while some use those blog digests of skills ('10 ways of being a better writer' - 'Six tools to create great characters'). Some use other techniques or even a mix of techniques.
Let's take the blogposts as an example: by themselves these blogposts are good. Used as firm writing advice without proper counterbalance and context, they develop a pattern of thought in the minds of the students, and that one is not one that searches out their own style and their own stories, but it fixed firmly on "What others tell me is better than what I can find for myself." Yet it is the self-discovery that's the magic part of learning writing and it's the capacity for never-ending self-discovery that is so crucial to the amazing writer.
I need to remember this for my own teaching. I need to make sure I don't ever produce a thousand Gillians (it's harder for me to do this, I admit, for my style is quite distinctive, but any teacher can produce lookalike students with the right method) but that I give writers tools they need to develop their own styles and write in their preferred genres.
This is one of my concerns with creating look-alike writers: it produces very narrow writing choices for the reader. Another is that it lowers the horizon: new writers don't learn to reach as far or to fly as high. It stifles creativity by harnessing that creativity to one writer's concept of what is either their own style or the style of their favourite author. There isn't just one way of achieving this set of limitations.
The ways of hampering new writers are numerous. They do all boil down to teaching not thought through. "I can teach this in this manner" without considering the consequences. One workshop in any manner is unlikely to hurt, but a regular series of courses or an eight week program or a semester is going to set up habits and expectations in the mind of the learner-writer. That's what they're for, mostly, is to teach good habits.
It's worrying me that not all the habits I'm seeing being taught are good habits. As my violin teacher said to me when I was sixteen "If you want to actually play, you're going to have to learn all over again, for right now you're never going to improve beyond a certain point. All those bad techniques will get in the way of you becoming a musician." I gave up music at that point, for debating was easier, but the lesson stuck.
The arts are underpinned by strong tuition, and we aren't currently being nearly careful enough about the nature and shape of tuition outside universities. Teachers themselves need to learn and that learning involves a set of skills that writers seldom innately possess. I learned some of this from my formal teaching qualification and quite a bit more in my fifteen years of formal teaching since then. My mother might have been a teacher, but I had to learn this set of skills. And it seems others have to learn them, too.
April 6, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-04-07T16:39:00
Today I'm puddling through things. Every now and again there is a surprise.
I just got my chocolate ready for Conflux, for instance. Conflux is two weeks and somewhat away, but it's going to be a very busy two weeks and somewhat, so, as I think of something, I do it. I have a hat ready for the masquerade, for instance, and some very pretty beads. And now, my chocolate. The hat wasn't the surprise, nor the pretty beads (though they might surprise others, being unGillianish in nature) but the chocolate wasn't what I expected. About 3 kg was fine, so there's plenty for Conflux and this time I've kept all the labels, so that my friends with gluten issues can check for themselves and be safe. The box that I thought contained 50/20gam Toblerones turns out to contain 20/50g. I tested one to make sure and it was, indeed 50g and I am now rather full of chocolate. I've packed a few for the first few people who really, really need them, but the rest are in my cupboard, waiting for suitable opportunities to emerge.
The other foodie surprise is lemons. Ger's going to give me a whole bunch, tomorrow, just before I go out shopping. I was going to buy lesser lemons during that shopping trip, so I'm very pleased - I get to see Ger *and* to have lemons. Another surprise is that I can't find my shopping list.
I have three hours before Dr Who and have run out of fun things I can procrastinate with. This means my next there hours will be full of cups of tea, work, and hopefully only good surprises. Dinner is chicken with coriander/lemon/spicy rice, I think - and I'm only thinking about it this early because I'm trying to avoid working. My work today is not full of surprises - it's all the dull stuff.
I just got my chocolate ready for Conflux, for instance. Conflux is two weeks and somewhat away, but it's going to be a very busy two weeks and somewhat, so, as I think of something, I do it. I have a hat ready for the masquerade, for instance, and some very pretty beads. And now, my chocolate. The hat wasn't the surprise, nor the pretty beads (though they might surprise others, being unGillianish in nature) but the chocolate wasn't what I expected. About 3 kg was fine, so there's plenty for Conflux and this time I've kept all the labels, so that my friends with gluten issues can check for themselves and be safe. The box that I thought contained 50/20gam Toblerones turns out to contain 20/50g. I tested one to make sure and it was, indeed 50g and I am now rather full of chocolate. I've packed a few for the first few people who really, really need them, but the rest are in my cupboard, waiting for suitable opportunities to emerge.
The other foodie surprise is lemons. Ger's going to give me a whole bunch, tomorrow, just before I go out shopping. I was going to buy lesser lemons during that shopping trip, so I'm very pleased - I get to see Ger *and* to have lemons. Another surprise is that I can't find my shopping list.
I have three hours before Dr Who and have run out of fun things I can procrastinate with. This means my next there hours will be full of cups of tea, work, and hopefully only good surprises. Dinner is chicken with coriander/lemon/spicy rice, I think - and I'm only thinking about it this early because I'm trying to avoid working. My work today is not full of surprises - it's all the dull stuff.
gillpolack @ 2013-04-06T22:45:00
Today's highlight was Sharyn's phonecall where we compared notes and discovered that some weeks are just not wondrous. I roasted a chicken, too. And I did a bit more of my tax. And I am slowly, slowly getting through paperwork. I have until 3 pm on Monday to get through this lot of paperwork, for on Monday evening new paperwork descends (for I'll be in the new teaching cycle). The truth is, though, that I'm not in hyperdrive. I really want to think rather than do paperwork. I'm all geared up, in fact, to write fiction, but I can't do that right now. Life is too busy intervening.
What I'm thinking about (since all I can do is sketch the house for my novel-to-be) is Falling Skies (my weekend viewing, purely by happenstance) and how many predictable moments it has. And how everything I've seen this week has had women in subordinate positions or non-existent (including the news and the Civil War documentary) and how the current climate may encourage this, but I find it really unexciting. I'm not just annoyed and frustrated, I'm also bored.
I've given up (years ago) on there being women like me in the stories I read and watch. I've not quite given up on there being Jews that don't fit someone else's prepackaged notions of what Jews are like, or Australians without fake accents, for both of these appear from time to time. But each time I see a post-apocalyptic drama, there is the moment of prayer (which is Christian) and there are the Great White Men (who save the world for the rest of us) and there are the Brave Children (mostly boys) and there is no place for me.
One thing I really treasure about reading is when a place opens in which I can be, adjacent to the plot, in the universe of the novel. I crave it less in some novels than others, but every time it's there, the writer is one I'll re-read, even if they're not perhaps the best stylists or their worlds are less well created. They let me into their universe; I can play in their sandpit; I exist.
One day, there'll be more sandpits I can play in. Until then, I really need to get moving with my paperwork, so that I can keep inventing my own sandpits for me to play in. One big reason for my novels being the shapes they are is that I'm sick and tired of being lonely in other peoples' universes. I'd write anyway, but I write the things I write because I hate being forever-Cinderella.
I need to explore this a bit more for my research. I need to find out how history facilitates or doesn't facilitate this play for readers. It's really important to our fiction, but I'm not entirely certain it's been properly explored.
What I'm thinking about (since all I can do is sketch the house for my novel-to-be) is Falling Skies (my weekend viewing, purely by happenstance) and how many predictable moments it has. And how everything I've seen this week has had women in subordinate positions or non-existent (including the news and the Civil War documentary) and how the current climate may encourage this, but I find it really unexciting. I'm not just annoyed and frustrated, I'm also bored.
I've given up (years ago) on there being women like me in the stories I read and watch. I've not quite given up on there being Jews that don't fit someone else's prepackaged notions of what Jews are like, or Australians without fake accents, for both of these appear from time to time. But each time I see a post-apocalyptic drama, there is the moment of prayer (which is Christian) and there are the Great White Men (who save the world for the rest of us) and there are the Brave Children (mostly boys) and there is no place for me.
One thing I really treasure about reading is when a place opens in which I can be, adjacent to the plot, in the universe of the novel. I crave it less in some novels than others, but every time it's there, the writer is one I'll re-read, even if they're not perhaps the best stylists or their worlds are less well created. They let me into their universe; I can play in their sandpit; I exist.
One day, there'll be more sandpits I can play in. Until then, I really need to get moving with my paperwork, so that I can keep inventing my own sandpits for me to play in. One big reason for my novels being the shapes they are is that I'm sick and tired of being lonely in other peoples' universes. I'd write anyway, but I write the things I write because I hate being forever-Cinderella.
I need to explore this a bit more for my research. I need to find out how history facilitates or doesn't facilitate this play for readers. It's really important to our fiction, but I'm not entirely certain it's been properly explored.
April 4, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-04-05T13:05:00
Today's task-which-should-have-been-done-years-ago involved sorting papers. I now have a big, big bag of old printouts that will go into the recycling bin tomorrow. I have just that much more space in my flat and, if I keep this up, might be in danger of actually fitting into my living space. Not too much danger, however, for my books still own most of my living space. The bottom line is that I need more living space. It doesn't hurt, though, to reduce the impossibilities of everyday life.
Now I've run out of reasons not to do other work (real work) and so I must do some. It was a very useful detour, however.
Now I've run out of reasons not to do other work (real work) and so I must do some. It was a very useful detour, however.
