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Write Nonfiction in November

First, it was named National Novel Writing Month by Chris Baty, who began in 1999 with 21 San Francisco Bay Area friends writing a novel in 30 days. Of the 21, six of them succeeded that month in completing a novel, which they defined as 50,000 words—the length of The Great Gatsby. The following year, 140 people participated, and it’s grown exponentially each year since. Today, over 100,000 people take up Baty’s vision each year in November.

via writenonfictioninnovember.wordpress.com

By HD Silversmith

Once upon a time there was NaNoWriMo -- and then there was the neglected stepchild Write Nonfiction in November. 

Click the link above to read a little more about the NaNo alternative.

Location, location, location

By HD Silversmith on A Writer’s Space (Eric Maisel)

PART VI: Imagined Space; Chapter 23: Setting as Big Idea

"Setting is not just the place where things happen: it helps define what can happen.  It is part of the very idea. These imagined spaces, fashioned from reality but no more real than the settings in dreams, do not exist for any reason except to serve an author's intentions" (148).

Here's the thing: 

If I follow my own inclination in describing setting, I tend to write rather obliquely about it. I refract the feel of a place by focusing on a few key elements that can function at multiple levels.

At least, that's what I think I do. Or what I'd like to do (I'm not sure which it is, to be perfectly honest; I've been focused on writing academic prose for some time, and it's been a while since I touched creative nonfiction).

But as I've been planning and outlining my NaNoWriMo novel (a category romance and thus very formulaic -- for fans of the genre, its very predictability is part of its appeal), I realized that's not how I've been preparing to deal with setting in it.

The book takes place in and around San Francisco, with which I have some familiarity. Rather than focusing on the feel and ideas I want to evoke, however, I've been zipping around the internet, cutting and pasting information about various Bay Area locations into YWriter5 so that I can call it up as necessary while I write.

Very utilitarian.  Very just-the-facts-ma'am.  You'd think I were about to write a guide book -- which would be fine, if that's what I were intending to do.  But, um, do I care how long the Golden Gate Bridge is, really?  Does it matter what entity now owns the St. Francis Hotel? Right now, does it, really?

I think perhaps I should be open to adapting my approach to setting in creative nonfiction for use even in a category romance.  This kind of novel is not profound or deep, but there are ones that work better than others, that give you more for your two hours of reading pleasure than lesser samples of the genre.

Frankly, if I wanted to read a guide book (and sometimes I do), I'd buy that.  But when I want a completely non-taxing-yet-engaging read that's as different from the academic prose I write and read during my paid professional hours, I'm not going to go for a guidebook.

So why not strive to produce a better example of the genre rather than a lesser one? 

Let's see if I can begin with the setting ...

If you're doing NaNoWriMo this year, what do you want to produce during the month of November?

The writer's journey: from disappointment to determination

By HD Silversmith

So I think this is a Good Thing, even if it's not the (immediate) outcome that I wanted.

Yesterday I received an editorial verdict from Scholarly Journal X (let it remain anonymous) to which I'd sent an article in mid-July.  Two of the three readers liked the article very much and recommended publication. The third did not, stated why, and recommended revision and resubmission.

Apparently a unanimous vote for publication is necessary for one's article to see the light of day in this journal, not simply a majority vote.

Initially I was disappointed because I'd wanted an unambiguous green light. As in, "God, this is brilliant! Please do us the honor of letting us publish this."

Ahem.

But almost immediately after the first jolt of discouragement, I thought, "Well, good:  two out of three readers liked it, the one who had negative things to say about it still liked it enough to recommend that it be revised and reconsidered for publication, and at least the comments, though a little snarky in spots, are specific enough to be useful to me."

Bottom line?  More good than bad.  So I'll revise.  So I pretty  much knew I'd have to do so when I submitted the article. So okay, I will.  Time frame? ASAP, while the piece is fresh in those reviewers' minds -- but I haven't quite committed to the specifics yet.  I'll do so in the next few days after I study my schedule.

The zen aspect of this?  I went from disappointment and discouragement to renewed determination in the space of about five minutes.  Five minutes.  That's pretty damn impressive for someone who, a few years ago, would have gone into major depression and self-doubt over the same verdict.

I'm calling this a personal win -- and a professional win-in-the-making.

Writers call wor(l)ds into being

By HD Silversmith on A Writer’s Space (Eric Maisel)

PART VI: Imagined Space; Chapter 22: Desiring Worlds into Existence

Today's chapter is all about desire, passion, and the creative process -- as opposed to what Maisel calls "mere motivation" which, he says, "isn't enough" (141). 

And what I have to say about that is, it depends on the kind of writing you do.

If, like me, you write mostly academic prose, what's not going to be enough are desire, passion, and the creative process.  It's not that academic writing isn't creative. That's bullshit, and that's just something I'm Way Over Hearing.  However, at least within Anglo-American academic contexts (even those that are arts-centered), there are certain voices to be adopted, perspectives to be incorporated, and above all, a specific audience of one's professional colleagues to write to and for.  Lots of people looking over your shoulder, in other words. 

(This is less true within other cultural academic traditions, but hey, the Anglo-American academy is pretty damn uptight when it comes to what does and does not constitute sanctioned academic discourse. This doesn't mean you can't find a middle register at which to pitch your voice, but this involves more calculation than inspiration.)

What gets you through the whole academic writing process is not mere motivation but commitment -- to your chosen field (which hopefully you selected because you loved), to a political or philosophical position, to research that may make a difference in people's lives, or to enabling others to understand the ways in which meanings are constructed.

And that's where fiction and academic writing intersect: in the passion for and commitment to meaning.  For constructing it or finding it, for articulating it and asserting it against the dark night of the sky and soul.  There is meaning, and I have found it, and language is my strength and my joy, regardless of my topic.

So for the month of November I will enter the realm of NaNoWriMo not to write out profound thoughts (far from it: I'll be working on a formulaic piece of genre fiction).  Rather, it will be to undertake an odyssey to see if I can rediscover my joy in the sheer play of language, good or bad, and to abandon some of my cool.  Maisel quotes one of his clients:

I realize that for a long time I've been playing it quasi-Zen-cool, trying very hard to start my engines without kindling any sparks of desire ... I go about coolly treating everything as practice, everything as a study, so that I don't have to deal with the fact that the work might just suck ... I understand now that this ... doesn't raise any stakes for me. (141)

Well, baby, I'm going to raise those stakes -- not professionally but personally -- and perhaps dismantle some of my rigid ideas about what kind of writer I am.  "Do not be afraid to burn hot in the service of your work!" advises Maisel. "Get excited, worked up, a little manic.  Zen cool is cool; but dharma teachers tend not to get much writing done" (141).

Burn, baby, burn! 

(Um, and "a little manic"?  As one who suffered from clinical OCD in her childhood, I still have my rather manic moments.  In fact, I'm depending on them and on regular infusions of caffeine to keep me going!)

Do you play it cool in your writing or are you able to go for broke?

Kacie Glenn: On the Scholar as First Person

By HD Silversmith

Interesting thoughts on memoir and creative nonfiction by academics in a review of a new work.  (There's a reason I don't write this blog under my professional academic name!)

Excerpted from The Chronicle of Higher Education. Click on the link below to access the full piece electronically via day pass or subscription.

On the Scholar as First Person

By Kacie Glenn

It's easy to poke fun at professors who depart from scholarly writing to tell the stories of their lives. Their forays into the first person not only cause them to forfeit any claims to objectivity but also can lead to accusations of egotism and suspicions of ulterior motives, not to mention infelicities of writing. Even the most eloquent and insightful academic memoirs are, by nature, ungainly hybrids of the scholarly and the subjective. In Academic Lives: Memoir, Cultural Theory, and the University Today (University of Georgia Press), Cynthia G. Franklin argues that memoirs by scholars have not received due attention, in part "on the grounds that they are seen as simply affording 'private,' or prurient and indulgent, sometimes embarrassing, glimpses into an often well-known academic's life." But academic memoirs are more than just another form of navel-gazing, Franklin argues. They provide valuable insights into the state of academe itself, and may help to rehumanize the ailing humanities ....

I may have to add Franklin's book to my next Amazon order.

Writing as anxiety and comfort

I woke up around 4:00 this morning and couldn't get back to sleep. 

I wanted to write.

I didn't particularly want to say anything wise or witty or even worth reading.  I just wanted to  ... write. I wanted to feel my fingers moving over the keyboard (as in yesterday's writing exercise, actually), and to experience the sense of familiarity and -- safety? -- that this activity brings me.

Maybe "safety" isn't the right word. 

When I'm writing academic pieces or creative nonfiction, it's not about being safe.  It's about finding the right words to express an argument or a theme. It's about working with language (and letting it work upon me) to give shape to my own unique voice and ideas.  It's about expressing something that's real and true to me, with intellectual and emotional integrity.

And that involves risk-taking.  Hell, it doesn't just involve it.  It demands it. And it can be challenging, intimidating, and even downright scary sometimes.

But this morning's writing -- right here, right now, as I sip my first cup of coffee -- is very much about safety.  It's about still being in my nightgown, watching the brightening of sky through my study window. It's about  listening to the slow, soft music that's streaming through my computer's iTunes program  and a chance to contemplate the day ahead of me.  It's about the sense of peace that writing here brings me, knowing that in the back of my mind I'm processing the upcoming tasks and projects of the day at the same time -- but I don't have to give them my full attention quite yet.  They're simply percolating for the present.

Writing is my challenge and my sanctuary.  And if that sounds just a wee bit melodramatic, it absolutely is, because as I was typing those words, the final line of My Cousin Rachel (Henry Koster, USA, 1952) with Richard Burton and Olivia De Havilland, sprang into my mind ... 

As I recall, there's Richard Burton in a billowing cape at the edge of a churning ocean, back to the camera, sea-drenched boulders in front of him. Agonizing over whether his cousin Olivia De Havilland, whom he loves, is actually evil or if he's misread her and caused terrible things to happen (see how I'm avoiding spoilers?), he speculates inconclusively (and in voice-over, soliloquy-fashion), finally intoning, "Rachel ... my blessed, blessed torment!" as the film fades to black.

Or something like that.

I wouldn't say that writing ever my torment, though, even in my most blocked, angst-ridden moments. In fact, this morning it feels like a blessing, a sort of quiet space where I can come to write who I am and get in touch with that before the craziness of my day begins.

A blessing, indeed.

Nominate a blog (even your own)!

When opportunity knocks, take advantage of it!

"Creative Nonfiction is seeking narrative blog posts to reprint in an upcoming issue of CNF.

We’re looking for: Vibrant new voices with interesting, true stories to tell. Narrative, narrative, narrative. Posts that can stand alone, 2000 words max, from 2009. Something from your own blog, from a friend’s blog, from a stranger’s blog.

The small print: We will contact individual bloggers before publication and pay a flat fee for one-time reprint rights. Deadline for nominations: August 31."

Go for it, people!

Creative non-fiction essay competitions

Deadlines Coming Up for Three Essay Competitions

I always feel as if the online writing world tends to ignore creative nonfiction and presumes that we would all like to publish a novel.

Like my mother before me, I've always known that creative nonfiction is my grail and my home.

Had I world enough and time, I might enter one of these contests -- but right now academia calls.

Always good to keep such competitions in mind for the future, however.