Random
Workshop of Horrors
Crazy is OK. Who hasn’t awoken on the kitchen floor, naked? And hanging out with/knowing/dating Crazy can be fun, or funny. Loud-Talker, Close-Talker, Person-Who-Eats-Only-Boiled Potatoes, every mélange and mishmash of personality—it’s cool.
But English departments have small rooms. And they seem to stuff workshops in the tiniest, the concrete walls, flickering fluorescent hum, chalkboard with that awful stuff, chalk. Like a bonfire, Crazy is Ok with a bit of open space, but in a small, closed room, the romance of the cracking heat tends to burn.
Did I mention the semester begins today?
What is your workshop horror story? I’ll flavor the pot with my top 3.
1.) Student of mine who brought a coffee mug of vodka and OJ to class every meeting (no big problem [maybe–he did get a bit sloppy/vociferous at times, and I had to tell him more than once that the phrase “words-of-ass” is never appropriate or helpful feedback] except for when the woman next to him narked).
2.) Student of mine who wrote intricate, detailed, very specific story about killing every member of the class in intricate, detailed, very specific ways. In a recent post-911 environ of paranoia, this incident ended up involving the ABI (Alabama state FBI) and two undercover cops who pretended they were college students.
3.) Fellow student (this in grad school) who leaped up and screamed into all our faces (causing crying and/or additional screaming) because the instructor insulted Richard Nixon. Was I frightened? Indeed.
You?
Tags: MFA in creative writing, writing workshops
I’m really liking “word of ass”
I’m really liking “word of ass”
Someone in a fiction workshop at Columbia wrote a story about castrating the workshop professor. I wasn’t in that class, though.
Also, why is it that undergraduate English majors always drink vodka and orange juice in class? I know of at least 2 other instances of this.
Someone in a fiction workshop at Columbia wrote a story about castrating the workshop professor. I wasn’t in that class, though.
Also, why is it that undergraduate English majors always drink vodka and orange juice in class? I know of at least 2 other instances of this.
Who ARE these people who write stories about killing the people who will read the stories? How many anecdotes about these people have we heard over the years. Get creative, you fucking cut-rate psychos.
Who ARE these people who write stories about killing the people who will read the stories? How many anecdotes about these people have we heard over the years. Get creative, you fucking cut-rate psychos.
seconded.
seconded.
There was a fellow student who, at the end of the critique of his poem, said his poem about mining (ALL of the language had to do with it), was actually about menstruation.
Three women in the workshop ganged up on him and he wouldn’t validate any of their criticism. It was pretty tense.
There was a fellow student who, at the end of the critique of his poem, said his poem about mining (ALL of the language had to do with it), was actually about menstruation.
Three women in the workshop ganged up on him and he wouldn’t validate any of their criticism. It was pretty tense.
The screwdriver is a beginner’s drink.
The screwdriver is a beginner’s drink.
It’s true.
It’s true.
As an icebreaker, our professor suggested two truths and a lie (a game where you offer two true statements and one lie about yourself, and everyone else has to guess which statement is false). When it was her turn, one student, not quite “goth” but close, said “I’m a cutter. I’ve been hospitalized for depression. I just got out of rehab.”
Absolute silence.
As an icebreaker, our professor suggested two truths and a lie (a game where you offer two true statements and one lie about yourself, and everyone else has to guess which statement is false). When it was her turn, one student, not quite “goth” but close, said “I’m a cutter. I’ve been hospitalized for depression. I just got out of rehab.”
Absolute silence.
I had a student, a guy, walk into the first day of class and say “I wonder which of you fine ladies I’m going to make love to first.” And I said, “Not in this class, buddy.” He ended up being a very mediocre student, but I liked him. He was funny. I can pretty much vouchsure that he didn’t make love to any of the ladies in the room, ever.
Oh, this is not a horror story.
I had a student, a guy, walk into the first day of class and say “I wonder which of you fine ladies I’m going to make love to first.” And I said, “Not in this class, buddy.” He ended up being a very mediocre student, but I liked him. He was funny. I can pretty much vouchsure that he didn’t make love to any of the ladies in the room, ever.
Oh, this is not a horror story.
Faintly recalled horror stories:
Early fifties man dedicated long customized erotic poem to twenty-year-old female classmate who wasn’t interested. He didn’t seem to get that all in room (except him) looked away embarrassed to be human.
Student who pounded her desk and said “It made me feel so violated” three times in a row during introductory autobiographical statements on the first day of class. She later sang her poems off-key and then screamed at/ threatened instructor when revision was suggested. I’d earlier seen that student in the only girl-fight I’d ever witnessed. This time, she merely spit and flapped her arms but it was enough to get her dropped from the course.
Non-horror stories:
Russell Edson (as guest instructor) claimed to have lost a dog on the flat roof just outside a window of the tiny second floor room used for most workshops at UNH. He mock-earnestly convinced people to wander out and help him look for the poor lost and faithful beast.
Bill Knott (great free ebooks at: http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fAcctID=22392489 ) wore an electric heating pad under his clothes and kept excusing himself to walk stiff zigzags through the room with outstretched Frankenstein hand clasping plug in search of the outlet which would make him the warmest.
Faintly recalled horror stories:
Early fifties man dedicated long customized erotic poem to twenty-year-old female classmate who wasn’t interested. He didn’t seem to get that all in room (except him) looked away embarrassed to be human.
Student who pounded her desk and said “It made me feel so violated” three times in a row during introductory autobiographical statements on the first day of class. She later sang her poems off-key and then screamed at/ threatened instructor when revision was suggested. I’d earlier seen that student in the only girl-fight I’d ever witnessed. This time, she merely spit and flapped her arms but it was enough to get her dropped from the course.
Non-horror stories:
Russell Edson (as guest instructor) claimed to have lost a dog on the flat roof just outside a window of the tiny second floor room used for most workshops at UNH. He mock-earnestly convinced people to wander out and help him look for the poor lost and faithful beast.
Bill Knott (great free ebooks at: http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fAcctID=22392489 ) wore an electric heating pad under his clothes and kept excusing himself to walk stiff zigzags through the room with outstretched Frankenstein hand clasping plug in search of the outlet which would make him the warmest.
Student turned in a one-page handwritten response to a request for a five-page essay, no punctuation, almost every word spelled creatively, and I realized he was functionally illiterate. He was a senior in college, and my class was one of the four remaining electives he needed to graduate. What would you do?
Student turned in a one-page handwritten response to a request for a five-page essay, no punctuation, almost every word spelled creatively, and I realized he was functionally illiterate. He was a senior in college, and my class was one of the four remaining electives he needed to graduate. What would you do?
This was a 3000-level nonfiction writing workshop, by the way.
This was a 3000-level nonfiction writing workshop, by the way.
These are beyond non-horror stories.
These are the New Testament Part II.
Prophets of Workshop.
Love!
These are beyond non-horror stories.
These are the New Testament Part II.
Prophets of Workshop.
Love!
what did it say?
what did it say?
It said life, like basketball, was hard, that it was fun to draw things with Adobe Illustrator, that dreams, such as finishing college, can come true if a person works hard enough, that certain rappers were better than other rappers, etc.
It said life, like basketball, was hard, that it was fun to draw things with Adobe Illustrator, that dreams, such as finishing college, can come true if a person works hard enough, that certain rappers were better than other rappers, etc.
i’d give him an A
i’d give him an A
i would have guessed rehab.
i would have guessed rehab.
Oh man Blake you set that one up. Sounds kind of lyrical juxtaposing Adobe Illustrator off American Dream off basketball. yep, pass him.
Oh man Blake you set that one up. Sounds kind of lyrical juxtaposing Adobe Illustrator off American Dream off basketball. yep, pass him.
I passed him. I figured he’d already got over a hundred hours from everybody else. I wasn’t going to be the guy that ruined his security guard career or whatever.
I passed him. I figured he’d already got over a hundred hours from everybody else. I wasn’t going to be the guy that ruined his security guard career or whatever.
I only drink it at work.
I only drink it at work.
that guy is in the next cubicle, yelling at his girlfriend and listening to 3rd Bass
Thank you, Kyle, much appreciated. You are like the reporter in The Dead Zone (book), the one who lets Stillson bully him into silence, figuring someone else would surely stop him, someone had to.
fwiw I’d have passed him, too.
that guy is in the next cubicle, yelling at his girlfriend and listening to 3rd Bass
Thank you, Kyle, much appreciated. You are like the reporter in The Dead Zone (book), the one who lets Stillson bully him into silence, figuring someone else would surely stop him, someone had to.
fwiw I’d have passed him, too.
According to my knowledge, no one drank before or during my undergraduate workshops. I wish we had though. It might have loosened us up and caused more creativity. Perhaps I’ll suggest to my former professor to have once class designated as Drunk Day.
According to my knowledge, no one drank before or during my undergraduate workshops. I wish we had though. It might have loosened us up and caused more creativity. Perhaps I’ll suggest to my former professor to have once class designated as Drunk Day.
Tim O’Brien came to our workshop a few years ago and refused to read from The Things They Carried or Cacciato or In the Lake Of the Woods (we had copies of all handy). Several members of the class walked out as he read from Tomcat in Love.
Tim O’Brien came to our workshop a few years ago and refused to read from The Things They Carried or Cacciato or In the Lake Of the Woods (we had copies of all handy). Several members of the class walked out as he read from Tomcat in Love.
3rded.
3rded.
because it’s all true, right?
because it’s all true, right?
I never really had any “horror” stories beyond the dudes who refused to write anything but genre stories no matter how many times the prof stressed no genre fiction and the dude in my poetry class who readily and often admitted he never (in fact, supposedly “couldn’t”) write unless he was stoned.
I might have been a horror story to one dude in a non-fic workshop. We were told to bring a draft of a 5-8 page personal essay for peer group workshop; I stayed up until 4 the night before finishing it, woke early to proof it and clean it up a bit and make it something I was somewhat proud enough to have others look at it. This other kid came with 2 pages of typo-ridden anecdotes from a Dungeons & Dragons session he’d been in the weekend before. Due to the lack of sleep and coffee nerves, I flipped my lid and caught him after class and told him to either take this shit seriously or change his major and stop wasting his classmates’ time workshopping his afterthoughts. In retrospect, I feel like an asshole, but justified, as he never came to class unprepared for peer workshop again after that.
I never really had any “horror” stories beyond the dudes who refused to write anything but genre stories no matter how many times the prof stressed no genre fiction and the dude in my poetry class who readily and often admitted he never (in fact, supposedly “couldn’t”) write unless he was stoned.
I might have been a horror story to one dude in a non-fic workshop. We were told to bring a draft of a 5-8 page personal essay for peer group workshop; I stayed up until 4 the night before finishing it, woke early to proof it and clean it up a bit and make it something I was somewhat proud enough to have others look at it. This other kid came with 2 pages of typo-ridden anecdotes from a Dungeons & Dragons session he’d been in the weekend before. Due to the lack of sleep and coffee nerves, I flipped my lid and caught him after class and told him to either take this shit seriously or change his major and stop wasting his classmates’ time workshopping his afterthoughts. In retrospect, I feel like an asshole, but justified, as he never came to class unprepared for peer workshop again after that.
would have to know the particular rappers
would have to know the particular rappers
truth is the last thing i’d consider in this situation
and maybe any situation
truth is the last thing i’d consider in this situation
and maybe any situation
Jesus, that’s harsh. I can see how he’d be tired of reading from those…
I mean, did you want him to wear a funny little hat and dance a little jingle too? I mean, I hate “diva” behavior as much as the next guy, but walking out on a reader seems wildly disrespectful, particularly in such an intimate environment.
Jesus, that’s harsh. I can see how he’d be tired of reading from those…
I mean, did you want him to wear a funny little hat and dance a little jingle too? I mean, I hate “diva” behavior as much as the next guy, but walking out on a reader seems wildly disrespectful, particularly in such an intimate environment.
Long time ago, in a fiction class (let me emphasize the word “fiction”) a girl brought in a story to workshop about a chick who gets raped by her father, gets pregnant and has an abortion. It was terrible, and the class was pretty brutal, spent forever dwelling on the fact that it was cliche, not believeable, characters undeveloped, melodramatic and overwrought, etc.
Girl then had a complete fucking breakdown, screaming, crying, tearing hair out, etc., and confessed that it was her own story and it was the first time she’d ever shared it with anyone. Dear god, the long, dreadful silence that followed.
Long time ago, in a fiction class (let me emphasize the word “fiction”) a girl brought in a story to workshop about a chick who gets raped by her father, gets pregnant and has an abortion. It was terrible, and the class was pretty brutal, spent forever dwelling on the fact that it was cliche, not believeable, characters undeveloped, melodramatic and overwrought, etc.
Girl then had a complete fucking breakdown, screaming, crying, tearing hair out, etc., and confessed that it was her own story and it was the first time she’d ever shared it with anyone. Dear god, the long, dreadful silence that followed.
I love both of those last two stories. They make me happy to think about.
I love both of those last two stories. They make me happy to think about.
oh holy hell batman.
Also, note: Push by Sapphire.
I haven’t read it, but isn’t that the general pretense?
oh holy hell batman.
Also, note: Push by Sapphire.
I haven’t read it, but isn’t that the general pretense?
Haven’t read it…is that the plot? It’s so sad that we all thought that shit was cliche–I mean, should getting raped by your father and getting pregnant be cliche? Dear god, no. But it is. Does that mean it happens all the time? Or just that people write about it all the time? Either way, depressing.
Incidentally, some people in my class thought the girl staged the whole thing for attention. Which she might have done. But that would be just about equally as depressing, IMO.
Haven’t read it…is that the plot? It’s so sad that we all thought that shit was cliche–I mean, should getting raped by your father and getting pregnant be cliche? Dear god, no. But it is. Does that mean it happens all the time? Or just that people write about it all the time? Either way, depressing.
Incidentally, some people in my class thought the girl staged the whole thing for attention. Which she might have done. But that would be just about equally as depressing, IMO.
Mimi made me laugh.
Matt made laugh. Heating pad story will show up I F fiction soon—sue me.
Kyle, you don’t grade on truthiness, right? And a level 3000 class? Jesus. Is that like you have to build a story out of aluminum and then fly it? I think your school was doing some Course Adjustment to look all Buck Rogers/badass.
O’Brien comes to your class and you want him to what…? Gwendolyn Brooks had the same problem we “We Be Cool.” She spent her life after pointing out she had written other poems.
We jazz june, though
Mimi made me laugh.
Matt made laugh. Heating pad story will show up I F fiction soon—sue me.
Kyle, you don’t grade on truthiness, right? And a level 3000 class? Jesus. Is that like you have to build a story out of aluminum and then fly it? I think your school was doing some Course Adjustment to look all Buck Rogers/badass.
O’Brien comes to your class and you want him to what…? Gwendolyn Brooks had the same problem we “We Be Cool.” She spent her life after pointing out she had written other poems.
We jazz june, though
We award the Ph.D. immediately to anyone who builds a story out of aluminum and then flies it.
We award the Ph.D. immediately to anyone who builds a story out of aluminum and then flies it.
which was the lie?
which was the lie?
love Edson
love Edson
hahaha that’s awesome, i’m glad you did that
hahaha that’s awesome, i’m glad you did that
was the story riddled with cliche, or actually cliche. or, were you mislabeling the story as “cliche” when you really meant “sentimental*”?
*sentimental not in the sense that being raped and impregnated by one’s father is a Hallmark card, but in the sense that she made it so obvious as to what sentiment/emotion/horror she wanted you to feel?
was the story riddled with cliche, or actually cliche. or, were you mislabeling the story as “cliche” when you really meant “sentimental*”?
*sentimental not in the sense that being raped and impregnated by one’s father is a Hallmark card, but in the sense that she made it so obvious as to what sentiment/emotion/horror she wanted you to feel?
A liberal arts education?
A liberal arts education?
guessing the third one’s a lie. the first two just fit so well together.
guessing the third one’s a lie. the first two just fit so well together.
it was a nonfic class after all tho
it was a nonfic class after all tho
we all fantasize about the after-class wring out, but you actually did it. kudos.
we all fantasize about the after-class wring out, but you actually did it. kudos.
Dear Sean– Please feel free to rip me off any time without fear of lawsuit. Hell–don’t even paraphrase. It’ll make up for the sad fact that I paid you to write my book for me. The last installment check should arrive via Fedex tomorrow. Just be there to sign for it. I think I have a copy of Willow Springs around here that maybe has something in it I could read to my kids and claim to be a great writer.
Dear Sean– Please feel free to rip me off any time without fear of lawsuit. Hell–don’t even paraphrase. It’ll make up for the sad fact that I paid you to write my book for me. The last installment check should arrive via Fedex tomorrow. Just be there to sign for it. I think I have a copy of Willow Springs around here that maybe has something in it I could read to my kids and claim to be a great writer.
to be fair, i only did it because my nerves were shot from back-to-back overnighters. otherwise, i’d likely have bit lip and went on my unmerry way.
to be fair, i only did it because my nerves were shot from back-to-back overnighters. otherwise, i’d likely have bit lip and went on my unmerry way.
Wow. Some of these are dreadful/hilarious. I don’t know if I should be relieved or disappointed that I just had a lot of mediocre-to-terrible workshops to slog through.
Wow. Some of these are dreadful/hilarious. I don’t know if I should be relieved or disappointed that I just had a lot of mediocre-to-terrible workshops to slog through.
This one girl in our workshop wrote a thoroughly detailed poem about menstruating while jumping on the trampoline. The only guy in our class excused himself to the bathroom for about 20 minutes until he thought we were finished.
Not exactly a horror story, but it probably was for the guy.
This one girl in our workshop wrote a thoroughly detailed poem about menstruating while jumping on the trampoline. The only guy in our class excused himself to the bathroom for about 20 minutes until he thought we were finished.
Not exactly a horror story, but it probably was for the guy.
okay, so on the last day of an undergrad fiction workshop i was in, the professor was offering extra credit [please see: undergraduate fiction workshop] if we read from one of the stories we had written in the class, under the premise that readings are a very real part of a career as a writer, blah blah. so. this guy gets up and begins not reading, but acting out, a scene from his story. like, actually moving his body to denote who is speaking. and this is a break-up scene. in his modern day, gay version, of little red ridinghood. i know.
okay, so on the last day of an undergrad fiction workshop i was in, the professor was offering extra credit [please see: undergraduate fiction workshop] if we read from one of the stories we had written in the class, under the premise that readings are a very real part of a career as a writer, blah blah. so. this guy gets up and begins not reading, but acting out, a scene from his story. like, actually moving his body to denote who is speaking. and this is a break-up scene. in his modern day, gay version, of little red ridinghood. i know.
Does “word-of-ass” relate to “word-of-mouth”? Like, “oh, sure, I heard about that via word-of-ass”?
Does “word-of-ass” relate to “word-of-mouth”? Like, “oh, sure, I heard about that via word-of-ass”?