Introduction

Writing Creative Writing: Essays from the Field - Rishma Dunlop, Daniel Scott Tysdal, Priscila Uppal 2016


Introduction

Writing creative writing: a student, a teacher, and a genre walk into a classroom and into endless possibilities

RISHMA DUNLOP, DANIEL SCOTT TYSDAL, AND PRISCILA UPPAL

The creative writing classroom is a joke. Or, at least, when speaking of the range of the identities of the participants, it has the makings of a joke: a student, a teacher, and a genre walk into a classroom. This is just one possible setup. Each of these individual figures, in truth, contains multiple identities.

The student alone could warrant a setup: a student with a degree or diploma (at a university or college) or work and family duties (in continuing education or community courses), a burgeoning writer, and a human anxious about sharing one’s most private meanings and tender experiences with strangers walks into a classroom.

The same goes for the teacher: an instructor, a professional writer, or a member of a department, organization, or community group walks into a classroom. For those responsible for running creative writing programs, these identities expand: an instructor, writer, department member, administrator, program designer, promoter, extracurricular event organizer, funding solicitor, and more.

On the topic of the writing itself, the classroom fills up just as quickly. Whether a multi-genre introductory course or an advanced, genre-specific class, the material is many-layered, too: the elements of craft of the genre or genres, the traditions and communities included in the course, and the traditions and communities a given course leaves out walk into the classroom.

Instead of further embellishing the “setups” of these crowded classrooms or attempting to manufacture a punchline, we will share what is for us the crucial implication of these setups. Not only does a lot of work go into planning, running, and taking part in a creative writing assignment, class, and program, but also many different types of work go into building a successful assignment, class, program, and polished written product. What this implication lacks in humour, then, it makes up for by characterizing one of the key features that makes the creative writing classroom and the creative writing instructor’s job so frightening and inspiring, exhausting and sustaining, and challenging and rewarding: the multi-faceted labour of the instructor, the multiple needs of the student, the various layers of craft and creation, and the many demands of the institutions, communities, and professional organizations in which creative writing and the teaching of creative writing take place.

The writing gathered in Writing Creative Writing: Essays from the Field encounters these many different types of work — documenting the difficulties, exploring the possibilities, reflecting on experiences, analyzing inner workings, and advising on design and action. Furthermore, these writers — diverse in terms of everything from genre to ethnicity to region — offer a wide range of unique perspectives on the practice of creative writing and the profession. Yet, crucially, what links this variety of essays and authors is their focus on a specific type or aspect of the work of teaching and producing creative writing, ranging from the particular creative writing assignment to the larger national, economic, and cultural contexts in which writing, publishing, and creative writing instruction take place. To this end, the collection is divided into four sections: “Writing Creative Writing Pedagogy” (which is, in turn, subdivided — “By Genre(s),” “By Approach,” and “By Classroom”); “Re-Writing the Creative Writing Tradition”; “Writing the Creative Writing Professor”; and “Writing Creative Writing Programs.”

“Writing Creative Writing Pedagogy” is our longest section for a reason: for a long time the hottest debate among those in the field was whether or not creative writing can be taught. While that debate hasn’t entirely been demolished by the weight of sheer numbers of creative writing courses, it has been swept aside as more and more approaches to teaching creative writing have emerged. These not only develop best practices but also simply share different types of best practices — or what may be best practices under certain circumstances, or in the light of shifting demographics and shifting trends.

The subdivision “By Genre” is, traditionally, the way creative writing has been categorized. It still serves us as a useful category, since the vast majority of creative writing courses and creative writing products are still defined by genre. (And, arguably, all the essays in this collection discuss elements of genre.) However, the types of creative writing courses offered in any given program have shifted and expanded over the years beyond the staple poetry and fiction courses, and so this subsection highlights the ways in which teaching those traditional genres has changed radically. Wanda Campbell examines the tensions and satisfactions inherent in teaching fixed forms versus free verse; Daniel Scott Tysdal demonstrates how to use student-friendly modern technology to teach and create innovative poetry; while Nicole Markotić and Suzette Mayr delve pen first into the taboo topic of how to write and discuss sex in fiction. This subsection also offers invaluable pedagogical primers from pioneers in the field of such in-demand courses as screenwriting, with Peggy Thompson, and comic books/graphic novels, with Mary Schendlinger.

The next subdivision, “By Approach,” moves beyond generic categories to suggest ways that creative writing can benefit from cross-genre writing as well as cross-discipline approaches: Rishma Dunlop advocates for how life-writing can be understood as research creation; Louis Cabri demonstrates how linguistics can offer new entry points for discussing creative language; Jennifer Duncan postulates whether or not creative writing curricula ought to be radically rethought according to a postmodern textual culture approach; while Priscila Uppal explores the benefits of adaptation as a nearly limitless creative strategy.

The last subdivision, “By Classroom,” examines the challenges of teaching creative writing outside the model of the small literary seminar class — a significant growth area at many institutions, now becoming the norm rather than the exception. In that spirit Kathy Mac gives very practical advice on how to structure smaller workgroups as a strategy for maximizing learning potential in large classes; Gülayşe Koçak suggests ways to unlock the creative blocks students may have when accustomed to educational systems that value memorization over originality; and Kathryn Kuitenbrouwer offers structure and methodology to the increasingly popular and global context of teaching creative writing online.

“Re-Writing the Creative Writing Tradition” centres on ways of thinking about creative production in a postmodern and complex world where for some the avant-garde are writers who seek to divest themselves of any identity-markers, and for others the act of visibility constitutes both personal and professional bravery in an environment hostile to inclusivity and cultural diversity. Here a manifesto on the tenets of Uncreative Writing by one of its most famous founders, Christian Bök, sits alongside poems from Renaissance England that David Goldstein argues can be seen as precursors to much avant-garde poetics. Here also we find the brave trailblazers, such as Andrea Thompson, who examines why the highly popular spoken word phenomenon has been forced to fight for academic legitimacy; and why one of Canada’s most respected theatre artists, Yvette Nolan, has faced death threats as she continues to tell the tales of her people even among those who wish they would disappear.

“Writing the Creative Writing Professor” is a section of self-reflexive pieces on the transformative power of language and creativity from the viewpoint of the professor or instructor. Some of these writers have more than several decades of teaching, publishing, and performing experience to draw on. Included are Aritha van Herk’s lyrical meditation on differing teacher and student desires, and Judith Thompson’s empowering yet sometimes explosive strategies on how to tap one’s most urgent and emotionally difficult material; Stephanie Bolster writes about the learning curve of teaching creative writing within an academic institution, with all the politics and committee work involved; and Lorri Neilsen Glenn discusses confronting her own biases as she attempted to create safe writing spaces for women of diverse backgrounds.

The final section, “Writing Creative Writing Programs,” takes a step back from the ins and outs of creative writing classrooms and the desks and computers of individual writers to consider the vast machinery of the creative writing program degree — and what might even be termed the creative writing economy. While Lori A. May details how and why low-residency programs are recruiting support from institutional bodies and international students alike, Catherine Bush invites us into the administrative and pedagogical underpinnings behind a successful MFA program. Darryl Whetter tackles one of the most controversial and fiercely debated divides in creative writing administration — whether or not English departments are benevolent homes for creative writing courses; and thom vernon offers a philosophical discussion of the meaning of burgeoning creativity in an increasingly capitalist society.

If one of the defining, valuable features of Writing Creative Writing is that it is a collection of diversely authored essays that explores all phases of the work of the creative writer and creative writing instructor with intelligence, rigour, individual flare, and imagination, then a related significant feature is the number of distinct readers for whom this collection serves as essential reading. This is a book for current creative writing instructors looking to deepen their understanding of their multi-faceted teaching labour, to expand the horizons of their practice, and to engage in this exchange of ideas and opportunities. This is a book that will provide the same opportunities to understand, expand, and engage with administrators, coordinators, and creators of creative writing programs, organizations, and communities. And … this is also a book for students in graduate-level creative writing programs — developing writers and already established writers — eager to learn more about their craft and their profession. These essays provide practical insights into the craft of writing, an exploration of different forms and styles of writing, and a detailed introduction to teaching, a growing area of employment for creative writing professionals. This is a book, then, designed to get these interconnected but sometimes disconnected members of the creative writing community to enter into a shared conversation through the shared material of these essays.

Another trait, linked to these others, that makes Writing Creative Writing essential reading is that it is the first resource of its kind written fundamentally in the Canadian context, gathering together the experiences, ana­lyses, and ideas of Canadian writers. This returns us again to the question of audience. The Canadian-centric quality of the collection makes it required reading for writers teaching in Canada; it reveals not a unified vision but the variety of practices, problems, and prospects that characterize this diverse community. The collection will equally reward creative writing instructors and creative writers from other countries and regions. Many insights into creative writing pedagogy and program design, and many reflections on the writing teacher’s life, will transcend national boundaries. In fact, a number of the essays foreground the international nature of this conversation, reaching beyond Canadian borders to explore everything from Ancient Greek poetry to experiences teaching in Turkey. On the flipside of this, in those instances where national boundaries create differences, these insights and experiences may potentially raise new questions or help expose unrecognized issues and opportunities.

Perhaps the best way to summarize the indispensability and fertile potential of Writing Creative Writing is to return to our opening conceit. Within and around these pages gather a collection of insightful essays written by a variety of dynamic experts, a varied group of readers, and a distinct cultural-historical moment. Together, essay, reader, and world encounter the past, connecting to what we have learned and where we have failed. They inhabit the present, testing and questioning, answering and practising. And they look to the future, where book and life converge in a new view on the world and our work, a map to the paths up ahead, a glimpse of the points to strike off from in new directions. We are keen to hear from all who walk into the classroom. Who turns to the page to compose? What do they do there to thrive?

As with a good joke, then, Writing Creative Writing aims to create an experience of collective bonding, one that we hope, like a good joke also, prompts a response, spurs a little collegial one-upmanship, and lends itself to continuing the conversation by building on and beyond the ideas it shares, way on into the night.