Think globally and act locally.  So many wonderful stories here to tell–and to share with the world.

Harry Ricketts, a poet who has also written a celebrated biography of Rudyard Kipling, gave me a copy of his mini-chapbook, “How to Live Elsewhere.”  This is part of the Montana Estates Essay Series Titles, featuring Damien Wilkins, Bill Manhire and Simon Morris, along with other prominent New Zealand writers.  The chapbooks have been discontinued by its sponsor, Montana Estates vineyards, but this is a great idea and a lovely series.

I actually did a back to back interview from the ABC studios–first with Ramona and then with Lynn Freeman in Wellington, New Zealand.  Another terrific interview–this time focusing on the new Creative Nonfiction Magazine and my new memoir, written with my son Sam, TRUCKIN’ WITH SAM.  It’s the story of our travels around the world–and my struggle to be an effective “old-new dad.”  Sam and I are actually in New Zealand together right now.  I will be doing a master class at Victoria University, Wednesday, followed by a reading (with Sam) at the City Gallery at 600 p.m., Thursday.

She conducted a great interview on ABC Radio.  I was in Sydney and she was at her headquarters in Melbourne, but she talked with me as if we were seated side by side.  Mostly we discussed my new creative nonfiction anthology, “Becoming a Doctor.”  Also the new magazine–formerly the journal, Creative Nonfiction.  Heard from a number of people after the interview, including the writer-physician Leah Kaminsky, former writer-in-residence at Bar Ilan University.  She’s the editor of a collection of nonfiction and fiction stories by prominent doctor-writers called “The Pen & the Stethoscope,” which will be published this year by Scribe Publications.  Not many doctor-writer anthologies around–which is odd–because physicians and writers are a great deal alike–both living solitary existences, both dealing with the everyday drama of life and death.

Most of the members of my audience at UTS (University of Technology Sydney) were well aware of the importance of Gay Talese’s “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold”  in the annals and history of the new journalism/creative nonfiction movement.  I read the famous  scene aloud–the one in which Sinatra confronts the screenwriter of the film, “The Oscar,” Harlan Ellison, over his shoes (“Game Warden boots,” says Sinatra) and some of the people in the audience could actually recite with me.  My host was Gabrielle Carey, the talented author who teaches in the creative writing program at UTS.

There were 177 applicants and only 12 slots available.  Nearly everyone applying was qualified–or even over-qualified.  Selection was difficult, finding 12 wonderful writers–poets, fiction and creative nonfiction–with an interest in science, technology and science policy.  Folks we thought would work together comfortably.  I have listed the winners below.  (For more information about To Think, To Write, To Publish and The Rightful Place of Science conference, check out www.cspo.org.

The winners:  Rachel Zurer, Lauren Oakes, Stephanie Harris, Deborah Gardner, JD Ho,Meera Lee Sethi,Victoria Blake, Sarah Whelchel, Mary McGrath, Mason Inman, Ross Carper, Jason Bittel.

The 12 recipients of this fellowship award–selected from 177 applicants–will be announced on the Consortium for Science Policy & Outcomes website (www.cspo.org) and on this blog–tomorrow.  To Think, To Write, To Publish will bring together “next generation” writers interested in science and policy with “next gen” science policy scholars in a unique collaborative creative nonfiction writing project.  Editors, agents will work with writers for publication possibilities.  More about To Think, To Write, to Publish soon.

In what may or may not be a scathing review in the June 21 Times Book Review of Reif Larsen’s first novel, the Times television critic Ginia Bellafante indicates that she knew that Larsen had an MFA simply by reading his prose.  “It would not be necessary to consult the author bio,” she says.  The novel, The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet, Bellafante says, is “sometimes” beautifully written, but “plagued by that sense of writers workshop insularity: it doesn’t aim to mean much.” 

I should say that I am not in any way a fan of writers’ workshops.  I believe that MFA writing teachers find it easier and less demanding to workshop than having to present useful craft lectures, and that students appreciate and often crave and covet the ego trip that workshops provide.  But workshops, in moderation, are often quite useful, providing a literate reading audience to emerging writers.  Even accomplished writers—very prestigious authors—are part of writing groups with readers that provide feedback, criticism and support.

So I think it is basically unfair and ill-conceived for Bellafante or any writer to arbitrarily write off the contribution of workshops.  And her idea that workshops focus on style (creativity) without substance (meaning) is equally off base.  Effective workshops—and I have been a part of quite a few of them—focus equally on style and substance.  Style first, perhaps, because style (narrative) will often lead to substance and meaning.   I think a problem with workshops is that they are not long enough. and they lead young writers to believe that, because the term is done and grades have been posted, they are finished with their work.  Workshops are beginnings—months and sometimes years of revision and development should follow.

Besides, I think that book reviewers like Bellafante can suffer from the same kind of insularity, writing prose that lacks meaning.  For example, her review begins:  “A relatively short time ago, short time ago [repetition is either mysteriously stylistic or a proofreader’s error], in what was to some that heavenly stretch predating the fall 2008 financial quarter, people spent money on things.”  As examples she names: “executives on gilded office renovations; uptown women on Restylane and luxury retail; and publishers, occasionally, on fiction by the young and unknown.”  Her point, which she eventually gets around to, is that Larsen “with his explorer’s name and brief history promoting a Botswanan marimba band” was paid a million dollar advance for this book. 

So why begin a review with such snide and irrelevant information—speaking of meaning?  She is obviously annoyed, as we all are, by the ineptitude and shallowness of the publishing industry, but it is not Larsen’s fault.  The book should be judged on its merit—not on its advance.  And, speaking of meaning, here’s Bellafante’s first description of the book:  “ . . . each page seems a vitrine constructed to exhibit the author’s discursive, magpie imagination.”

After you figure out what that means, you can Google Restylane.

Recently, I was interviewed by a writer doing an article about the effectiveness of creative writing critique groups–which are a lot like formal workshops, except, perhaps, they are not attached to university based writing programs.

Read more…

Hi!

I am doing a PhD on the construction of visibility in the first publications of two West-African women writers. Both texts are semi-autobiographical and have strong links with aspects of the writer’s own lives. However, some characters/aspects of the narratives are clearly creative interventions by the writers. Since I am devoting a chapter to narrative techniques, I would really like to know whether it would be fruitful to pursue the idea that the constraints placed on self-presentation by women in traditional societies sometimes impels them to “colour” the truth by presenting their multi-faceted identities through various personas etc. This would be in an effort to avoid censure and to present personal, cultural, religious and political truths, as they interpret them? One of the two writers wrote her novel in 1979, and was rooted in her own socio-cultural milieu, whilst the other currently writes about her country and its people from the diaspora. The current writer’s discourse is much less “veiled”, and I am focusing on a contextualised comparison of the two writings.

Thanks!
Rizwana

***

Sounds like an interesting project. I am not certain, however, that the constraints you are referring to regarding self-presentation in restrictive societies are a lot different than constraints other writers feel forced to rely on when they have something to hide—something that might hurt them or take advantage of innocent victims. I think the difference today has to do with the fact that so many people want to out themselves, their friends and their families for therapeutic reasons. That wasn’t happening very often in 1979. I do, however, think that this might be a very fruitful subject to investigate, especially if you can include a writer’s motivations to pursue certain narrative techniques.

Lee

A lot of people have a lot of questions about creative nonfiction, but I’ve noticed that a majority of those questions are similar. So, in an attempt to broaden the reach of my answers, I’ve decided to post some of your questions with my answers here on my blog.

The hope is that this blog will serve as a viable source of information, as well as a platform for a larger conversation about the genre we all love–or hate. So, please feel free to leave feedback and comments.

If you’ve got a creative nonfiction question for me, email it to askCNF@gmail.com, and who knows, your question may find its way onto this blog.

***

Hello Dr. Gutkind,

I am an MFA student at the University of Texas-Pan American. For my creative nonfiction thesis, I embarked on a journey to learn about my great-great-great-great uncle, Cleng Peerson, who arranged for the first organized group of Norwegian immigrants to come to America and established their settlement in what is now Kendall, New York. My thesis chair suggested that I weave my own family stories into Cleng’s. It has been an emotional journey in many ways.

For my critical introduction, I have the task of defining the creative nonfiction sub-genre where my piece fits. Obviously, it is genealogy with a twist. I have explored and discounted the idea of memoir because my story spans from childhood to the present. I have also considered new journalism, but I am leaning toward personal essay.

I had an idea this evening after re-reading your pieces, "Becoming the Godfather of Creative Nonfiction" and "What is Creative Nonfiction" and listening to the videos on this site. I decided to turn to an expert in the field to request your opinion on where my piece would fit along the CNF spectrum. I realize you have not read my thesis but thought you might have an idea given the information of how the thesis has developed.

I sincerely appreciate your time and your opinion.
Sincerely,

Christine Ardis
McAllen, Texas

p.s. I love the idea of the Yellow Test!!!!

Christine,

Lee

***

Hi godfather! I have a question.

I am enrolled part-time in a graduate writing program here in Birmingham, UK, at the university where I teach. I appear to be the only person interested in non-fiction. The only related class is called ‘Life Writing,’ and every time I describe what I am working on, one of the professors says, “That would make a great short story!”

How can I convince them of the value of creative non-fiction as a genre? I am thinking of giving out lots of your mugs.

Kathleen Dixon Donnelly

Kathleen,

The mugs are a good beginning. And if you are in Birmingham, then fill them with beer–not coffee. But it sounds to me as if these people don’t know what creative nonfiction is. You can’t convince people of the value of something that they don’t know exists. Here’s a deal for you: I will donate a free copy of a back issue of the journal for every mug you buy to present them. They can read creative nonfiction while they are drinking from it!

Lee

***

Hi CNF,

I have a book manuscript, and have been calling it creative nonfiction, but is it?

I’ve been a member of CNF for over a year, and have had a hard time calling myself a member of CNF, because what I’ve written doesn’t seem to fit with what CNF publishes. My manuscript is a spiritual book (not a religious book; it adheres to no one religion); it’s about the mysticism that underlies all religions; it’s experiential, rather than scholarly. It’s been through three drafts and is due for more revision. It is nonfiction, and contains interviews I’ve conducted as well as anecdotes from my own spiritual life. It also contains poetry, mine and others’. It reports visions and significant dreams that my interviewees and I have experienced. It’s somewhat irreverent and humorous.

I’m a former academic, and am not interested in this book being academic, so it isn’t, even though it does cite quite a few sources. It’s about hearing and following the Inner Voice, as many creative people do; it’s tentatively called The Voice for God. I am having a hard time finding a group which deals with this kind of nonfiction.

Is my manuscript creative nonfiction? Is there another writers’ group that I would be better off joining? Thank you for considering these questions.

Nancy Schuster, Ph.D.

Nancy,

Sounds like you have not only joined Creative Nonfiction as a subscriber, but also as a member of the very popular club called: "Am I writing creative nonfiction–and if not, what do I call it?"

I get notes like this all the time, and the fact is, the question can’t literally be answered without a careful read. And even with a careful read, experts will disagree. Reading your e-mail, it does look like most of what you are doing is honest narrative, some of it reportage and some of it memoir. There’s poetry, which certain can also be classified on occasion as creative nonfiction. Just because it is spiritual doesn’t disqualify it from the realm of creative nonfiction. Most of the best literature of any genre is spiritual. I know this probably has not answered your question–but it is a hard question to answer sight unseen.

As far as your group, well, it sounds like you are above and beyond your group. Perhaps you ought to seek an expert teacher or mentor to help you focus. Sometimes one-on-one with a trusted teacher is the best way to gain clarity.

Lee