Editor’s note: This is part two of a discussion with between Wren and Coffee House Press publisher Chris Fischbach and independent curator Sarah Schultz about the changing arts ecosystem and their recent collaboration, The Laureate Lounge, with (and at) the American Swedish Institute (ASI). The Laureate Lounge is “an inventive space inspired by the real and imagined habits of Nobel Laureates” where participants dig into their own creativity by completing short exercises created by four writers and artists (Rachel Jendrzejewski, Janaki Ranpura, Sun Yung Shin, and Andy Sturdevant). The exhibit is part of the larger Nobel exhibit at ASI, and goes through May 24 (there is even a Cocktails at the Castle reception this Friday, if you are so inclined). You can find part one of this discussion here.
Hazel & Wren: Can you talk about some of the Laureate Lounge exercises please? (What are some of your favorites? What do you and the writers hope these will provoke for the audience? How are they “inspired by the real and imagined habits of Nobel Laureates”?)
Chris Fischbach: I think the key here is “imagined habits.” We knew we didn’t want to create an exhibit that people could just look at and think about. The dynamic of curators/artists/institutions being an “active” presenter to a “passive” audience is one that Sarah and I are both interested in shaking up, or turning on its head. So, we knew we wanted to create a space where writers could employ their talents to in turn create spaces for visitors to be creative.
So, we set up only a few restraints. The writers were tasked to create some kind of activity that included their writing, that was instructive, had something to do with the idea of “how to win a nobel prize,” and that encouraged activity that could be in the lounge itself, the rest of the castle, and/or the community at large.
Sarah worked with Janaki and Rachel to develop their projects. Because each of them work in the theater / social practice world, their projects took up much more space, employed props, and have a real physical presence in the lounge. Working with Andy and Sun Yung as Coffee House Press writers, we went a little more analog, and they each created a list of prompts/ instructions that were then put on postcards, which are on display / available in the lounge. You can fill them out there and take them, leave them, deliver them to others in the castle or elsewhere, or actually put them in the mail.
They include instructions like, from Andy:
- Read Knut Hamsun’s Hunger (or skim it) and try to determine which aspects of it could be used to justify dumping your college boyfriend or girlfriend.
- Choose an important email in your inbox that you must reply to soon. Write out the response by hand, then type it out. Ask if the recipient notices anything different afterwards.
And from Sun Yung:
- Walk up the stairs as though it’s the last staircase in your city. What memory appears with each step upward?
- Consider this quote from Toni Morrison: “As you enter positions of trust and power, dream a little before you think.” What positions of trust and power do you hold, and what new dreaming do you need to do?
Sarah Schultz: I won’t pick favorites. I love them all! Sun Yung and Andy’s postcards most directly tie to our initial idea for giving visitors tips and instructions for writing something in the vein of a Nobel Prize winner. Although, I will note that they come at task very poetically, politically and even abstractly. I love trying to figure out which writer Andy is referring to when he asks you to “Search your email, texts or chats, and see if you can find an instance of someone calling you “hysterical.’”
Rachel’s is a performer and playwright and her large elegant posters function like a set of stage directions for the audience. They have a wonderful presence in the gallery and the texts read like poems or scores inspired by the work of four women writers. Rachel and I spent a lot of time talking about who wasn’t well represented in the history of the prize, and wanted to find a way to emphasize the work and lives of some of the women who won.
Janaki Rampura’s projects are active and a little cheeky. It’s Not that Hard to Write a Book creates a step by step set of instructions inspired by particular Nobel Laureate works. All you have to do is type your answers on the cards and voila, you will become a published author. (And I love her instructions for Explosive Drawings that connect acts of imagination with the destructive power of dynamite. Without being heavy-handed, it might make you pause to consider the irony of so much financial and generous largess!
H&W: Do you see The Laureate Lounge existing in any other capacity after the end date at ASI?
CF: Maybe? To me the answer to this is largely abstract in that I hope it has some impact on visitors and on those people that participate in the activities. Meaning that I hope they think about the ASI differently, how one can interact with a text, the different ways of “writing,” and how literature and writing can activate not just a space like the Laureate Lounge, but a museum in general, and beyond.
SS: I feel like the project was specific to the context of the Nobel Creations exhibition. It would be interesting to talk with the artists about their experience and if it prompted any ideas that they wanted to continue with in future. I feel very confident that the American Swedish Institute will keep experimenting like this in the future.
H&W: What are some of the most exciting trends you are both seeing in arts organizations with audience engagement?
CF: I don’t know if it’s a trend or not, but I’ve been noticing and thinking a lot about the shifting hierarchy of value around professional and amateur artists. Meaning that it’s not necessarily that a professional opera singer is more valued that someone participating in a community sing-along.
I also am really enjoying anytime an artist gives any kind of tour. Of anything. To me, that’s an example of what I call art-ish. It might not be what most people thing of art, and it’s hard to measure its “excellence,” and that doesn’t matter. There is much less pressure when things are “art-ish.” Throwing traditional measures of success out the window.
SS: Arts and cultural organizations are experimenting with audience engagement in all kinds of ways. I love to see how humor and playfulness has infiltrated organizations in ways that complement and enhance their scholarly and educational missions. (For example, the Minneapolis Institute of Art has really knocked it out of the park with their 52 surprises to celebrate their 100th anniversary which included pop-up waltzes, ice sculptures and reproductions of beloved artworks around town.) Museums are also becoming more generous and inventive with how they use and share their collections and resources, as illustrated by what ASI has done with the Nobel exhibition. I would also highlight the institutional support for artists who work in socially-engaged, participatory and performative ways as a significant and growing trend. Most importantly, cultural institutions are getting very focused on realizing their social and civic potential. I think they are moving beyond easy definitions of participation and engagement and are trying to actively define how inclusion and equity can be part of their vocabulary, core values, and everyday work.
H&W: Is there a particular challenge to audience engagement that you’ve encountered, either within your own work, or observing other organizations at work? If so, what are your thoughts on how to tackle that challenge?
SS: The biggest challenge is to keep the needs and experiences of the audience at the forefront of your design. It’s easy to get seduced by your own cleverness or to overestimate and even underestimate your audience. As my former colleagues and I would say, “Let’s make it simple but not simple-minded.”
CF: One challenge is when cultural institutions that implement audience engagement programs think of it as an art of their marketing department, serving to reinforce and support traditional programming. Letting audience engagement shape the core is much more exciting to me, but it’s scary. Also, it’s important to remember that if you want to reach diverse audiences, you need to go out into the community—don’t expect them to some to you just because you invite them. Not everyone will always feel welcome. It’s up to the institutions to make themselves feel vulnerable.
H&W: Do you have any favorite arts organizations that you look to for inspiration when working on programming and/or audience engagement?
SS: I’m a big fan of what Chris is doing at Coffee House Press and of course the American Swedish Institute, Northern Lights, Works Progress, Bedlam Theater, the Plains Art Museum in Fargo, the new Can Can Wonderland and Public Art St. Paul with their City Artist in Residence program. There are so many individual artists in the Twin Cities I could name. In New York, I love to check out what is happening at Governor’s Island, the Queens Museum and of course Creative Time. The artist-run space Machine Project in LA, in fact, the whole city of Los Angeles is an inspiration. I just came from Open Engagement, an annual social practice art conference that was held in Pittsburgh and was blown away but what was happening in the city. I think we’re in the middle of a movement, not a trend!
CF: Open Field was huge for me, and everything Sarah and her team did at the Walker. I also love Machine Project in LA, Works Progress here in town, Northern Lights / Northern Spark, the ASI itself, Common Room (out of the Soap Factory, run by Andy Sturdevant and Sergio Vucci), Floating Library, the Library as Incubator Project, Proteus Gowanus in Brooklyn, Public Art St. Paul, Amanda Lovelee, Molly Balcom Raleigh, Ring-Ring Poetry, . . .
Editor’s Note: What movements and shifts in the arts world are you noticing? What other organizations do you look to for innovative programming?
(Pssst: It’s Online Open Mic day! Head over to leave feedback for our lovely writers.)
Editor’s note: Today’s arts world is a shifting one. Arts organizations are moving from traditional (and sometimes elitist) modes of art presentation to more collaborative, grass-roots, and innovative ways of engagement. One of the organizations I admire that is addressing this shift in a very successful and intriguing way is Coffee House Press. I asked CHP publisher Chris Fischbach and independent curator Sarah Schultz some questions about the changing arts ecosystem and their recent collaboration, The Laureate Lounge, with (and at) the American Swedish Institute (ASI). The Laureate Lounge is “an inventive space inspired by the real and imagined habits of Nobel Laureates” where participants dig into their own creativity by completing short exercises created by four writers and artists (Rachel Jendrzejewski, Janaki Ranpura, Sun Yung Shin, and Andy Sturdevant). The exhibit is part of the larger Nobel exhibit at ASI, and goes through May 24. Today, I’m sharing part one of my discussion with Chris and Sarah (part two will be on the blog next week).
Hazel & Wren: Can you talk about how this partnership with the American Swedish Institute came together?
Chris Fischbach: About a year ago, Coffee House placed poet Ed Bok Lee in residence in ASI’s library, as part of our CHP: In the Stacks library residency program. Not knowing Swedish, but drawing on context, he created a series of “metatranslations” of poems he found in the archive. On top of that, a number of one-minute films were created that in turn translated those poems onto screen. The ASI even fashioned a whole exhibit around this project.
Having felt that that collaboration was a success, when an opening came up to create an exhibit for the larger Nobel exhibition, they decided they wanted to have one based on the Nobel Prize for Literature. So, naturally, they thought of us.
H&W: How did you select your four writers/artists for the Laureate Lounge?
Sarah Schultz: Our main goal in creating the Laureate Lounge was to introduce audiences to the diversity of creative work and practices by Nobel prize winning authors and to inspire them to create something themselves.
The Nobel Prize is a big deal. It is the largest and most prestigious award in the world. Your chances of winning one are pretty slim even if you are already a highly accomplished writer. Imagine your chances if you aren’t! Chris and I had a lot of fun trying to figure out how an average person might actually go about winning one. What were the secrets of the prize-winners in literature? How did they manage to write that book? Come up with that idea? Stick to it for so long? Chris and I talked about writers we thought would be interested in using the work of other writers for as inspiration. I worked with Rachel Jendrzejewski last summer at the Walker as part of Open Field and knew that she was really skilled at writing in ways that prompt participation. I’ve been a fan of Janaki Rampura’s work for a while. So this was a great opportunity to work with her.
CF: We wanted writers we knew that would be interested in crafting a piece that somehow would enable visitors to participate, rather than just create something to read or to look at. I’ve worked closely with Andy and Sun Yung before, and knew they would get it, and Sarah had worked with Rachel and Janaki in her former role at the Walker Art Center.
H&W: What kind of experiences/thoughts do you hope the audience takes away from the Laureate Lounge?
CF: That literature is something that can be experienced in ways other than just reading. That reading isn’t necessarily a passive experience, but that it’s always participatory—this exhibit makes enacts that literally.
SS: I hope that people are reminded about the many ways they are creative in their own lives. I also hope that they are motivated to read the work of some of the authors. I know that was inspired to read the work by the Swedish writer Selma Lagerlof, who won the Nobel Prize in 1909. I hadn’t heard of her before this project.
H&W: Chris, I found a quote of yours on the CHP blog where you said that CHP has been “transforming from being solely a publisher to becoming a cultural organization that produces both books and programming,” as two ways to reach your audience. What have been your guiding principals through this transition at Coffee House Press? Who comes up with the programming ideas?
CF: Another way that we put it is that we provide “nontraditional ways of accessing the reading experience.” I’d add “writing experience” to that as well.
Our goal is to connect writers and readers. Publishing books is the historical and primary way we achieve our goal, but it’s not the only way. Programming, residencies, experiences, we’re open to it all. It’s about creating different kinds of spaces for both writers and readers to encounter, enact, absorb, create literature. To demystify it. To find new ways for writers to put their skills to work that is outside of the book paradigm.
We want our books and writers to be catalysts for new art. And we want them to be available to other people and organizations to help them achieve their goals, or fulfill their missions.
As for who comes up with the programs, it’s usually a group effort. It’s true that I sometimes get credit for the whole “Books in Action” initiative, but it’s really about having a great team that’s all on board, coming up with ideas together. And it’s also about being very willing to sit down with new partners and collaborators and brainstorm. Sarah is my favorite person to do that with.
H&W: Sarah, I’m interested to hear how you approach working with so many different organizations as a freelance curator. Do you immerse yourself in their mission/past work, or do you try to focus on the future of what you are curating with them?
SS: Context is always the most critical part of curating or designing any project. I start by looking at what we might build from within the organization and how we can be responsive to the local community and situation. Then, I try to stretch what is possible or even sensible. I learned this from working with so many creative people on Open Field at the Walker. I am super collaborative and like to toss around ideas even if they are ridiculous…actually, especially if they are a far-fetched and a little uncomfortable. It helps move you beyond what you already know. It is always exciting to walk into a new situation and be surprised by what is possible working together.
Working with Chris, the artists and the team at ASI was inspiring and fun. We came up with scores of project ideas. It’s always challenging to have to choose between great ideas. The ASI staff was very inventive in helping us pack a lot of activity into a small space!
Psst: Stay tuned for Part 2 of this interview next week!
The Writing Life: The Scoop on Workshops
Belly flop or swan dive? Tears or triumph? Many of us have been there, many more of us will go there again… into the workshop and onto the hot-seat. How will we take it? What can we expect? Maybe more importantly, how can we model the kind of workshop sportsmanship that we hope will abound on the days we offer our own work up for criticism?
“Workshop” had become this ominous word, in my perception, in the CW scene. We dread it. We berate it. We think we are above it, and yet we keep coming back. Because we need it. Every writer needs feedback and it seems that the workshop is our current paradigmatic solution. But sunuvvabitch, those growing pains! How can we make the onerous workshop work for us? This week, I’ve asked poets and fiction writers to shed a little light on their personal experiences and ethos surrounding workshop etiquette and technique, because I think back to some of my more mortifying workshop fouls and I sure-as-hell wish I’d have read a list of do’s, or even don’t’s, before running my eager mouth off on my peers’ best efforts.
These four writers are currently academically involved in the Creative Writing program at Oklahoma State University. Todd Osborne (Poetry), Kate Strum (Fiction) and Michael J. Haskins (Fiction) are finishing their final semesters in the MFA program; Katherine Markey is a second-year PhD candidate in English with a creative focus in Poetry. (Find their bios below.)Here, these gracious writers weigh in on some of my most burning questions about the workshop experience.
Hazel & Wren: When you pick up a workshop piece for the very first time, what do you look for first? What catches your eye?
Todd: Usually I am looking at the lines—how they are enjambed, how they look on the page. That’s the first stuff that catches my eye. I’ll see if there’s any rhyme, if it’s in a form. If it’s in stanzas, I’ll see if the line-count for each stanza is consistent or not, and then take that into account when I re-read the poem.
Michael: I always feel a little guilty trying to label a piece within a genre, but I definitely check length first. Am I reading a piece of flash fiction, a story that needs to be expanded, a would-be novella? If the page count seems odd—for example, a ten page piece is a little long for flash fiction but a little short to develop a full story—I spend some extra time asking myself what should have been cut or included. Obviously there are no hard and fast rules, and there are some good ten page stories, but page count can be telling.
Katie: I don’t know that I have a specific element of the poem in mind that I’m looking for when I first get to a workshop piece. In fact, I try to resist looking for something, and rather just read the piece for what it is. Of course, even though I might say that, I am probably always looking for that somewhat ineffable something. Whether it’s something surprising that the poet is trying in way of technique or an image that sticks out or a place where the poet’s voice seems particularly strong. A line that I know will be stuck in my head the rest of the day. My favorite moments in poems are also those where there is a little bit of slippage. Where the honesty of a particular moment can break through the overall polish of the poem and you can actually see the poet there, no matter how “messy” this might seem.
H&W: Do you have a reading routine? [Pink pens?, red marker?, blue ink? etc. How many times do you read a piece before workshop?]
Michael: I read a piece twice and I try not to mark it until the second read, although sometimes I can’t resist. I keep a pen in hand, even if I tell myself not to use it.
Kate: In addition to marginalia and notes in the text, I always type up my comments and reflections. I usually take at least 24 hours away from the piece before I write up the formal feedback. The feedback helps ME process and understand the piece as much as it offers commentary to the writer. I don’t mean that in a selfish way, just that I think my feedback is more valuable this way. The write-up forces me to express my thoughts on the piece in a coherent way that I hope will be useful to the writer.
H&W: What do you write on the actual page of the creative piece? [i.e. margin notes? grammar/punctuation/line edits? questions? suggestions?] What do you find to be most useful when you get your own creative drafts back?
Michael: I write a two-part response: line edits and marginalia first and a personal letter second. Line edits are mostly geared towards rhythm and style; I don’t worry too much about grammar because I assume the writer will catch those mistakes in revision. The marginalia tends to be very blunt, with lots of question and exclamation marks, all caps, sweeping generalizations, and the like. I’m not trying to be fair per se because most editors won’t be; instead, I’m trying to give an impression of my emotional reactions to the piece as I read. The personal letter is more diplomatic. I hedge my criticisms and I take the time to think through why the writer might have made a choice I initially didn’t like, and I often come to appreciate that choice. Combined, the marginalia should give the writer a glimpse into how the work might be seen coming out of slush, while the personal letter should give the writer a sense of how the work will be seen by a fair and trusting reader.
Todd: I usually just write in the margin. Anything from x’s through commas or other punctuation, to questions about a word choice or syntax. I am a stickler for consistent punctuation use and tend to get up in arms about that kind of thing. These kinds of concerns are usually second-order for me, however. I am more concerned about whether or not the poem has used its images or conceits well. Is the language original? Does it take old ideas and present them in a new or interesting way?
Obviously, if I have done something wrong, mischaracterized something, or mis-used a word or phrase, I would like to know that. But mostly, the comments I find most useful are those that engage with what the poem is trying to be. Don’t try to make my poem fit your aesthetic. It’s a real game of empathy. The best workshop participants can fully inhabit the world of someone else’s poem, story, or essay.
H&W: In your opinion, or in your genre, what’s the best way to respond to the writer? Do you have a template of sorts for your responses?
Michael: My template is the personal letter and I usually follow the compliment sandwich, but the compliments have to be sincere. If I truly cannot muster up a sincere compliment, then I tell the writer what I think they were trying to do. Assuming I get it right, the writer knows that at minimum that I am a competent reader. I also think there’s something said for balance [between criticism and positive feedback.]
On the criticism side, I always present my feedback as a set of options. I consider the choice the writer made, why I think she made it, and why I disagree with it. Then I present at least one alternative, why I think it would be beneficial for her, and some possible shortcomings of my own alternative to reinforce the idea that all writing is a set of choices and that all choices have advantages and disadvantages.
Most importantly, I conform to the internal logic established by the writer. I always meet the writer on the terms her piece establishes. I will point out when I think a piece violates its own terms, but I don’t challenge the terms themselves because, at least in my experience, that creates resentment rather than productive revision.
Kate: I try to think of it this way: I read alone, but I respond with the writer, if that makes sense. I give the writer the benefit of the doubt and believe in them and believe that they have a vision for the piece, even if that vision is only partially realized on paper in the draft I’ve read. So I think about the pieces that are there and what those pieces need to work on in order to become that fully realized piece that the writer sees or is striving to see.
H&W: Let’s imagine a (typical) workshop where the poet/author reads a portion of the piece and is then expected to listen during the discussion of the work. How do you, as a participant, begin?
Kate: You know, it’s cliché and it’s standard and formatted and all that, but I think that if you don’t begin on what’s positive or “working” or some general strengths of the piece, things can get real bad real fast. There’s really no good way to start with the problems or questions, because people just seem to pile on and more than that, it doesn’t make sense. We’re cutting things before anyone knows what might stay. That just seems backwards. I’m not talking about blowing smoke or giving undue compliments, just starting with what’s strong and from there you can more easily talk about how to build on what’s good and more often than not it becomes clear what wasn’t working and that falls away, rather than having to be highlighted.
I don’t say this as someone who is afraid of criticism. I’m absolutely a “tell it like it is” kind of writer, no sugar-coating, please. Just cut to the chase, but my reasoning is much more about productivity and energy. Productivity for the writers directly correlates to the energy of the participants. Starting with the bad, well, you get the idea.
H&W: Another workshop participant has a very different understanding of the piece at hand. How do you share your reading?
Michael: If I think the other person’s read is valid, I’ll say, “That’s really insightful. I saw it differently [and here I explain how], but I think you might have changed my mind or, at least, two readings are possible.”
If I think the read is invalid, I’ll say, “For me,” it’s always important to get that personal qualifier in there, “I thought the piece was about [explanation].” I don’t try to argue or convince, only explain. The writer is the one that needs to hear, not the other reader.
H&W: How do you view the role of the workshop? For example, should the group work toward a consensus about how the writer might approach revision, or, is it more important to offer a variety of revision possibilities?
Katie: I think the goal of the workshop should be to offer a variety of revision possibilities. A lot of times it feels like the group might be trying to reach a consensus, which can be helpful to the writer because they can see how readers can (and will) come up with multiple interpretations of their piece, but even if consensus is achieved, it’s still up to the writer to decide where to take their work after the workshop is over. And, there are always going to be voices/opinions that you hold higher than others, so it’s often best to make sure all voices are heard, rather than synthesized into one general reading. If, for example, some members of the group decide a poem is “about” the loss of a loved one and they spend the majority of the workshop trying to convince other members of the group who think the poem is “about” something entirely different how to best revise it to eliminate any doubt on the part of the reader, and then the poet, finally getting a chance to speak, says that everyone was wrong, then the whole workshop has essentially been wasted trying to come to a consensus that, in the end, doesn’t really apply to the piece at hand. No doubt, it’s helpful to hear the different interpretations of a piece, but if these readings are causing so much disagreement that it takes the focus away from discussing the poem itself, it seems best to simply point out that there might be some clarity issues and leave it at that.
Michael: When I’m being workshopped, I appreciate consensus about the problems in a piece. For suggestions for revision, I appreciate variety so that I can weigh my options. I think I would be a little put-off if there was total consensus about revision because I don’t like to imagine such a formulaic approach to writing. Mostly though, I want a workshop that, when I walk away, doesn’t send me straight to the nearest drink.
H&W: After a sincere and thorough reading of a piece, you have to admit, YOU DO NOT LIKE IT. What do you do?
a. If you find the material potentially offensive, do you communicate this to the writer? If so, how?
b. If the piece is weak in many ways, how do you tactfully offer constructive criticism?
c. Do you have any tips for focusing on the positive aspects of such a piece? How might you hone in on strengths?
Kate: That’s irrelevant. Sometimes I’ll say in a workshop if I was particularly ‘into’ a piece. We all have styles and even topics and locales that we’re suckers for or maybe once in a while we’re awe-struck by the work of a colleague. I hope we all are. Otherwise, what a boring world if we all wrote things that everyone else liked. Sometimes it’s even more productive for me to critique a piece that I don’t particularly gravitate towards. I’m not emotionally attached and I can really take a step back and think about what’s best for the piece.
Michael: I’m not afraid to be blunt. Blunt does not mean rude, however. It means a fair assessment after a fair read. And as a rule, the focus is on the writing, not the writer. The exception is material that is offensive in the racist, sexist, classist, etc. types of ways. To my mind, not being racist, etc. is more important than quality writing. But I do not usually call out or label the person as such in the workshop because that tends to create a hostile, defensive environment. I save those concerns for my written response, and even then, I say that I think the writing is offensive, not the writer, even if I think the writing might represent the writer.
Todd: If a piece is offensive, that must be communicated to the writer. Either they are unaware, or they think they are being provocative. Either way, it’s probable that what they are trying to accomplish can be done in a much better way. It’s never easy to broach that subject in a workshop, but you must do it. Be polite, but firm. Don’t back down. […]
H&W: Have you witnessed a nightmarish workshop? What went wrong? How brutal was the suffering? How might crisis have been averted?
Todd: Just recognize that you don’t have all the answers, and don’t act like you do. Humility is never a bad thing in a workshop. (Obviously, be proud and confident in your work, but do not act like writing is a science that you have figured out.)
Katie: The workshops that stick out in my mind as particularly “nightmarish” have been the ones where the writer being workshopped got visibly upset during the critique and then made matters worse by attempting to explain themselves after the piece had been discussed. Sure, everyone probably gets a little upset when workshop doesn’t go particularly smoothly, but showing that you can’t handle a healthy dose of criticism is almost the surest way to guarantee people will think twice before giving you their honest opinion again.
Personally, my own “nightmarish” workshops have been those in which the work I was doing was not necessarily true to who I was. Times when I’ve doubted myself as a writer and was trying to mimic the style of another or writing the poem I thought people wanted to read, rather than simply letting the poem exist on its own. Which, of course, I got called out on. Spend enough time with the same writers and it becomes pretty hard to hide behind rhetoric and moves that seem “poetic.” It’s not exactly fun when those kinds of things happen but if you’re in a good workshop and you trust the writers around you, moments like that are both beneficial and necessary.
H&W: Let’s talk about honesty. What’s your take on disclosure in the workshop setting? How do you find balance for your feedback?
Michael: I try to be completely honest, but filtered through empathy. My younger self used to mistake honesty for unfiltered, complete, and immediate reactions, and the less I took people’s feelings into consideration, the more honest I was being. But my younger self was also a jackass. Honesty is not about telling people exactly what I think; honesty is about telling people what I think will help them the most.
Todd: Be honest without being hurtful is the best thing I can say. Never tell someone their piece is awful just because they didn’t like something you wrote. The workshop is not a place for revenge. Leave your feelings toward a person outside the workshop setting.
Katie: Honestly (haha), I try to be as straight-forward as possible in my feedback, although I like to think I’m always mindful of the sometimes damaging effect of being too honest. While I think that, yes, we should strive to uphold the integrity of the craft by being as frank as possible when it comes to responding to each other’s work, there is a line between honesty and cruelty. This seems to be a somewhat unpopular approach to workshop, at least in my experience. A lot of people might point out that editors and others of the professional world will not be worried about safeguarding the feelings of writers. And again, yes, while I agree that those who cannot take the criticism probably shouldn’t be a part of a graduate workshop, if the ultimate goal is growth as a writer—what we’re all trying to achieve by being in MFA and PhD programs—then eviscerating someone for writing a “bad” poem is not really beneficial to anyone. Anyways, it’s just not how I roll.
Do you have any successful tips for workshop? Feel free to share them with the H&W community here!
Todd Osborne was born in Nashville, TN. He has poems forthcoming in Juked and Slipstream Quarterly and his poems have previously appeared in Storm Cellar Quarterly, Borderlands Texas Poetry Review, and On the Rusk.
Kate Strum lives and writes in Stillwater, OK.
Michael Haskins is an M.F.A. candidate in fiction at Oklahoma State University. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Crack the Spine, Fat City Review, and elsewhere.
Katherine Markey is a PhD candidate in poetry at Oklahoma State University and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize for her work in Cave Region Review.
Tin House Summer Writer’s Workshop: The Goods
If you read my review last week, you know I was pretty impressed with Tin House’s Summer Writers Workshop this past July. Not only did I develop creative relationships and get some great feedback on my work, but I also left with a *few* reading suggestions. Okay, the reading list is ABSURD. But if you’re anything like me, and you believe that reading will improve your writing, then lists like these from people I hold in high regard are like gold. And so, I share the wealth:
Campbell McGrath – Capitalism (Wesleyan New Poets)
Campbell McGrath – American Noise (Ecco Press)
Campbell McGrath – Spring Comes to Chicago (Ecco Press)
I have become a complete disciple of Campbell McGrath. No other voice (that I’ve found) encapsulates the identity of this nation, in this millennium, with as much subtlety, poise, and formal consideration as McGrath.
Charles Wright – Bloodlines (Wesleyan Poetry Program)
D. A. Levy – Suburban Monastery Death Poem (Crisis Chronicles Press)
Dawn McGuire – The Aphasia Cafe (IFSF Publishers)
Derek Walcott – The Schooner Flight
Derek Walcott – Omeros
My workshop group spent a good deal of time considering form. Omeros is an epic poem in terza rima, and our conversation of Derek Walcott, also led us to Edward Kamau Braithwaite—another poet attending to the African diaspora.
Edward Dorn – Gunslinger (Duke University Press)
Edward Kamau Brathwaite – The Arrivants: A New World Trilogy (Oxford University Press)
Edward Kamau Braithwaite – Mother Poem (1977)
Edward Kamau Braithwaite – Sun Poem (1982)
Ellen Bryant Voigt – Kyrie (W. W. Norton & Company)
Gwendolyn Brooks – “We Real Cool” (originally published in The Bean Eaters [1960])
With Kevin Young as my workshop leader, sound and music were frequent topics in conversation. Poems like “We Real Cool” are concise examples of precision and rhythm in a poem.
Jim Harrison – Letters to Yesenin (Copper Canyon Press)
Jo Ann Beard – “The Fourth State of Matter,” in The Boys of My Youth (Back Bay Books)
Jo Ann Beard was a faculty member at the workshop. I haven’t read The Boys of My Youth yet, but if her prose is half as wise as her lecture was last summer, I expect to be blown away.
Julia Story – Post Moxie: Poems (Sarabande Books)
June Jordan – “Poem About My Feelings”
Karen Volkman – Spar (University of Iowa Press)
Kevin Young – Jelly Roll: A Blues (Knopf)
Larry Levis – Wrecking Crew (University of Pittsburgh Press)
Matthea Harvey – Modern Life (Graywolf Press)
Maurice Manning – The Gone and the Going Away (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt)
Muriel Rukeyser – “Effort at Speech Between Two People” (originally published in Theory of Flight [1935])
Enjoy this poem here!
Natalie Diaz – My Brother Was an Aztec (Copper Canyon Press)
Paige Ackerson Keily – My Love is a Dead Arctic Explorer (Ahsahta)
Come on! With a title like that (My Love is a Dead Arctic Explorer) how could you NOT want to dig into this book of poetry?!
Rochelle Hurt – The Rusted City (White Pine Press)
Sally Wen Mao – Mad Honey Symposium (Alice James Books)
T. Crunk – Living in the Resurrection (Yale University Press)
Ted Berrigan – The Sonnets
I admit, bashfully, that I did not know Ted Berrigan’s name before this summer. A “late Beat,” Berrigan became famous for The Sonnets, reissued by Grove Press in 1966, and influenced by T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land.
W. S. Merwin – Finding the Islands (San Francisco: North Point Press)
Walid Bitar – 2 Guys on Holy Land (Wesleyan Poetry Series)
Wallace Stevens – Harmonium
Yusef Komunyakka- Copacetic (Wesleyan New Poets)
The Party Train: A Collection of North American Prose Poetry (New Rivers Press)
There you have it! Now I know what you’ll be reading this winter so… see you next spring! Speaking of which, if at any point between now and then you decide this workshop might be right for you, get your application in for the rolling admissions process. Scholarship applications are due March 25, 2015.