AWP Ain't "My Culture"

For most genre writers, AWP (Association of Writing Programs) is a total non-starter. The conference and book fair bring up images of people asking one another if they are poets, and where they got their MFA. And... that isn't totally incorrect.

Last year, the noir panel was scheduled as the absolute dead last panel, at a time where most attendees had left the conference center. They shoved the crime writers deep in the basement level, on the other side of the conference center, telling us (not subtly at all) that we were the outsiders.

It's no surprise that genre writers and presses look at AWP and think "not for us." Or, like some, they get the hotel room and skip the conference, using the long weekend as an excuse to hang out with friends they only see once a year. This isn't "our culture."

Nah, fuck that.

We make the culture.

L-R: Rios de la Luz, Constance Fitzgerald, Gabino Iglesias, and myself.

I go with LitReactor, where I am on the staff. We're running a course on bizarro fiction right now, which is the furthest thing from the capital-L Literary style of fiction I can imagine. The booths at the book fair that stacked up on crime fiction, bizarro, and other kickass genre fiction sold so many books some of them had to close up shop early.

LitReactor, Booked Podcast, and Broken River Books got together Friday night to eat, drink, and get weird with it. It was a great repeat of the year before - the genre folks find each other, find the good parties, and have a fucking good time. It's one time you can guarantee that the city you're in is filled with book related events and book people. 

What's my point?

If AWP ain't your culture, why the fuck aren't you out there MAKING it your culture? They can't shove us in the basement every year. They can't keep us from showing up with smiles on our faces and having a good time in the sea of booths full of people who seem like they sort of want to be somewhere else. They can't stop us from selling more books than the other guys.

If you have to choose between Boucher and AWP, by all means, pick Boucher. But don't shrug off AWP all together - you'll miss too many great parties.

You're like school in the summertime: No class

By Steve Weddle

As they used to say on the Fat Albert television program:
You're like school in the summertime -- no class.

And yet, here's a class.

Pass the word, friends and neighbors. I'm back at LitReactor, starting August 6. Fundamentals in Short Fiction is 4-week class discussing character, plot, setting, dialog and all those elements you need to build an effective story, 

Goals Of This Class

• You will complete this class with a finished, publishable story in hand, and a skillset to craft your own fiction with compelling characters, rewarding plot, and telling setting.
• You will be able to understand and use the best contemporary storytelling techniques, learned through our carefully cultivated weekly readings.
• You will be able to move forward, using these techniques to enhance your own voice and vision.
• You will have raised your own standards for writing, working with classmates and the instructor through detailed discussion and line edits of your manuscript.

You don't always need an MFA for writing. Wait, MFA? Who said MFA? Oh, that's right. I did. I have an MA and and MFA, so I was ripe for the picking, it seems. Lisa Ciarfella and Elaine Ash chatted me up about the MFA program. To MFA or Not

Neither degree has been a golden ticket for anything I’ve done. The biggest benefit I got from the MFA was finding a group of like-minded people who were passionate about the same things I was. You think anyone at my office today wants to talk about whether Gordon Lish’s influence is what made Raymond Carver a great writer? About whether opening with straight dialog is a risk? About open endings in short stories? Heck, no. But the people I went through the MFA program with me STILL DO. I’ve got a dozen or so friends from that time who are still adamant about stories.Essentially, we created a network of readers and writers that we’re still involved with. It’s pretty damn glorious. >>

In Defense of My MFA

By Steve Weddle

I've insulted, um, pretty much everything during the past few years here at DSD.

Recently, I said your writing workshop was dumb.

This week I was reading this Lifehacker article: How to Edit Your Own Writing. I believe 100% that you should print out your writing to edit it. I believe 0% that you should read your writing aloud to "see how it sounds." Unless you're recording an audio book. Then you should probably read your book aloud.

Some things will work for you. Some things won't. Do the ones that work for you. Don't do the ones that don't.

At first glance, the "MFA programs are bad" argument seems to require this kind of response. You don't like MFA programs? Then don't sign up for one.

I was having this discussion with Sam Hawken and Hexican when it occurred to me that this is really a different type of argument, isn't it?

If you don't find printing out your novel helpful, then don't do it. Simple.

But if MFA programs are bad, then what to do with the MFA-generated novel? Are MFA programs bad for writing in general? You know, I can't answer that. Not without some dumb list of 10 or 20 things that lean one way or another. You want to argue that literary writing is bad? Or that genre writing is bad? You want to go on about how teen werewolf romances that sell millions are killing reading? Meh. This ain't that column.

This is a column that says why the MFA program was good for me, about why working days in WalMart's automotive shop and spending evenings listening to Dave Smith talk about writing were instrumental.

First and foremost, it gave me a network of writers with whom I've built decades-old relationships. I was in the LSU MFA program in the mid-90's. Geaux Tigers.

I read and wrote alongside playwrights, screenwriters, novelists, and poets. We didn't have an "performance artists" that I know of. There was one freak-show of a dude, but he wasn't officially in the program. He just stood up at open mikes and yelled stuff.

The point, if I have one, is that I have a handful of people I still turn to when I need to chat about reading and writing. We didn't go to war together. We weren't on the same college lacrosse team. (Hahaha. Lacrosse. Hahaha.) But they cared about writing. They said "Hey, you read this Carver story?" They said, "Dude, this paragraph is kinda dumb. I don't think you need it." Before Twitter and Facebook, I had in-person people with whom I could share stories -- in both senses. And these are friends and colleagues I still count on day after day. These are friends who get emails from me at 11 pm on a Tuesday with this as a subject line: "250 Words from 2nite. Do it sux??"

My years at LSU in the MFA program gave me people I can trust, like-minded friends.

Have I made like-minded friends since then? Yes. Nine.

Another thing the MFA program helped with was writing on deadline. You have to have a short story ready every other week or a poem done each week, you've got a good chance to make good writing habits.

Being at a college or university MFA program also provided great access to "real" authors who would stop by and get drunk and give readings.

The idea that MFA professors sit around talking about tweed and cigars doesn't make much sense, either. I don't remember Andrei Codrescu arguing one way or another about Harris Tweed. I don't know whether Rodger Kamenetz likes cigars. I do know that Dave Smith's pool-house/writer's cottage is one of the coolest writer spaces I've ever seen. And Rick Blackwood's talks about sex and violence in fiction and movies was always fun.

I also had the opportunity to teach college classes, which helped me to reconsider some ideas. That also helped pay the bills for years to come.

Are MFA programs for everyone? No. Is college? No. Are these shoes? No.

You can be a writer without an MFA. You can be a writer with an MFA.

You can travel and write. You can research and write. You can live in your mom's basement for your life, watching old movies, and write.

Anyone who says an MFA is for everyone is wrong.

Anyone who says an "MFA novel" is better than a non-MFA novel just because the author has an MFA is wrong.

Having an MFA doesn't make you a better writer.

The experience of an MFA program can be amazing, just like many other experiences.

I wouldn't say everyone should work in WalMart's automotive shop.

I wouldn't say everyone should spend 10 years paying off an MFA degree.

I would say that you should find what works for you and do more of that.

Unless it's reading your stuff aloud. That's just silly.