Posts Tagged "type"
A Thousand Words or So to the Community College Bound
One of the lies we are told growing up is that if you study hard in high school, then you’ll make it to a big school and that school will be the key to your success. Not doing your work will get you a McDonald’s job. I have found this to be the adolescent equivalent of “keep making that face, and it will stick that way.”
Going to Mt. San Antonio Community College didn’t equal my failure. After completing the requirements, I applied and got into UCLA, Berkley, & UC Irvine. At the time UC Irvine was the one with the most impressive English program so I went there (Yes, better than UCLA). When I went there I ran into the salutatorian of my high school class who could only demand “What the hell are you doing here?!”
Although she never liked me, this wasn’t the reason for her outrage. She was pissed because throughout high school she acted the way she should have, and I didn’t. She had a GPA above 4.0 in high school. Mine was more like 3.0 (for an honors kid this was like having the GPA of an etch-a-sketch). Yet, there we were sharing the same prestige, in fact I saved about $50,000 for dicking around in high school. Isn’t there a bible story on this?
Reason 1: You can get the same degree with about half the debt. This will help, because your English degree from that top university won’t get you a decent job. It will just help you beat out people without degrees for crap jobs.
“You have a degree in the arts? Nice. Help Derpy with the art of loading this van, also she’s your boss.”
For me community college wasn’t a stumbling block, I knew this was a dangerous place where if I didn’t take things seriously, then I would never escape its publicly funded clutches. This caused me to stop looking at my GE’s as something in the way of my real academic pursuits. They became a means to an end.
“I have to take Intro to Friendship? When am I going to use that as a magic major?!”
It turns out that writers need to know more about the world than just writing. Otherwise they’re writers writing about writing. Although, I’ll admit, I find writing the most fun when I’m writing about writing or writers or writer problems, but sometimes it might be cool to write a piece about a marine biologist, or a piece that explores philosophical ideas, and I’m sure a course in chemistry didn’t hurt the writer of “Breaking Bad.”
“Hydrofluoric acid will eat anything but certain plastics? That’s neat and all, but when is this EVER going to turn up in my writing?” –Vince Gilligan (not really)
Reason 2: Community College is a death trap and the fear of it might make you actually study and learn things you can use in your writing.
When you transfer to a four year school you may notice a few changes. At UC Irvine I noticed that instead of being taught by an experienced adult with several publications and familiarity with the writing game, my instructors were replaced with grad students who were about my age and felt uncomfortable about the “Where have you been published?” question.
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“When I published my first poem there was this thing called ‘The Cold War.’”
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“Welcome to Creative Writing 101. I took this class 2 years ago, and will be supplying you with vague answers for the next 10 weeks. So let’s all pretend I know what I’m doing and not ask any tough questions.”
To be honest, I got lucky with most of my graduate instructors, most. Each of them offered me something new that has changed my views on writing forever, that includes the, um, less awesome TA’s.
But my community college mentor John Brantingham has done more to shape my views of writing than any other professor. In fact, he has probably shaped the fiction sections of “Writing Is Magic” more than any of my other professors.
Reason 3: Community college instructors tend to be more experienced teachers and writers (of course your own experience is subject to change).
Even if your counselor is like “Yeah, you totally took this class in community college!” there’s probably someone in the English department who is like “You’re going to have to take all your creative writing classes over again.”
So you will start again and you’ll listen to someone else talk about writing, but wait! This isn’t what a story is! This reading assignment doesn’t fit into what I was taught! Clearly I went to the wrong school! What’s Post-Modernism?! AAAAAH! THIS IS ALL WRONG!
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“Someone in workshop turned in a 25 page rambling about replacing the insides of a bee with bread. I had to write a critique about what I thought it meant and how to make it better, BUT I DIDN’T KNOOOOOOOW!” (image from “Rainbow Dash Presents”)
This is fine. You came from one school with one way of doing things, and you’re entering a new school with a new way of doing things. The changes can be dramatic or subtle. If you’re lucky it’s dramatic and intimidating. Your mind will have to figure some way to reconcile the aesthetics and find your own path. Take what works. Leave what doesn’t. Don’t forget what doesn’t work; just leave it alone. It might be a key ingredient to your writing later on. If you aren’t going through these growing pains, THAT’S when I would worry that I didn’t go to the right school – but then maybe you did.
You might find yourself being behind the other students who already get the house style. They’ve been here since they graduated high school. This is the only way they know how to think about writing. However, as you start to find your voice, you will be the one with the advantage and confidence.
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“Hey, I’m all for experimentation, but perhaps not having a main character until you reached the maximum allowable word count was not the best idea. No, Mrs. Buzzy was not a main character; she was a plot device. Oh, also adding a plot might help! But that’s just my opinion.”
They have only attended one writing program. By this point you have attended two. They are a product of their program, with all of its strengths and weaknesses. Hopefully, you’ve managed to fill in the holes of your new four year school with the strengths of your community college teachings.
By your final years, you might be one of the finest writers in your program. You might even give some of the MFA’s a run for their money. But don’t be discouraged if your colleagues can’t see it; when they go off to do their MFA, you will get reports back saying “Remember what you said in workshop? Well, my professor said the same thing!”
I’ve said things in a peer workshops which were laughed at, and I was brushed off as having silly theories about writing. I said the same thing at USC and my professor actually applauded (If I’m not nominated for a TED talk in the next 3 years, I’ll do a video on it here).
You see everything they’ve been told to think about writing they got from one source, probably the aesthetic styles of whoever runs the program. Since you are their peer, you’ll lack credibility to have new ideas brought in and respected by the ego-driven crowds. To say something that disagrees with the house style, no matter how flawed the house style is or how sound your reason is, they will think that it is you who doesn’t understand. So they will need someone of merit to tell them the same thing you did before they’ll listen. (Befriend those who are open-minded enough to listen to you; this will keep you sane.)
Reason 5: No creative writing program is perfect. Each has its strengths and weaknesses. Already having a few creative writing classes from a different perspective will help you compensate for some of the weaknesses. If you didn’t go to community college, you’d have to wait until grad school to have this experience.
Although this was just my experience. Your experience may will vary. If you’ve gone through the community college system, feel free to comment on how it was like for you.
The Not Completely Obsolete Typewriter
It’s been awhile since I had originally written about the stupidity of the typewriter. Years have passed, and I still think it’s dumb for a writer to try to use it in order to convey some sort of personal image as being writerly. However, when I attended a workshop in the home of poet, mystery writer, and educator John Brantingham, he presented an argument that typewriters weren’t completely useless.
In fact this argument was compelling enough to make me start actively seeking out typewriters in antique shops. Although, I still haven’t found a cheap one that isn’t at least partly, if not completely broken.
Brantingham has two small, cute, purely mechanical typewriters in his home in addition to his computer machine. We had taken a break from his lecture on novel writing and discussion went to the typewriters. I mentioned my blog inspired by UCI students who were impressed by some poet who typed on a typewriter. They didn’t think he was an impressive poet because of his poetry, but because he typed his poems on a typewriter (the “real” way).
“I thought I could fool editors by typing my poems in American Typewriter, but when I got a rejection, I knew it wasn’t working.”
Although Brantingham would jokingly deny ever having thought out a thing in his life, everything he ever says always seems as though a careful amount of time and critical thinking had gone into it. Maybe it was just that his words always seem free of bullshit, which sets a very high standard for a creative writing teacher. Many of them have their snake oil that they buy into, in the worst of cases that snake oil destroys writers. “Destroy” can mean innumerable things.
“You know, the great thing about typewriters is that you can’t go back and edit.” This solves the problem of writers going back through their work and tinkering as they go, a common problem.
I had this problem in the past and considered a typewriter to force myself out of it. However, when I thought of using my parent’s electric 1000watt motorized Snorlax sized typewriter, I just thought it would be easier to just be a terrible writer (the kind that splits infinitives apparently).
It seems a 1980’s electric typewriter is blocking your path. (Image source: Pokedream.com)
Brantingham told me that I should buy a cheap, small, purely mechanical typewriter which would be built to last forever, and it should only cost me about $25. To be fair the last time I went antiquing in Pomona, the cheapest I found was about $35 and most of the ones under $100 were mostly just broken beyond explanation of why they weren’t in the trash. Although, I think he said something about getting one made around 1920 while the ones I looked at were 1960’s. I don’t really remember, sorry. Also he’s probably better at antiquing than I am. Also I only went to like five places.
Antiquing? Is this a CKY/Jackass reference joke using a scene from My Little Pony? Yes. Eclecticism is something I pride myself on.
I told Brantingham, “Well, you still have to retype it.” I mean come on! The digital world is sucking us all into it (Digimon was right). Brantingham had answers for this. He has answers for everything. I fear the day he doesn’t have an answer the way people in nowhere towns fear terrorists might attack their local Wal-Mart.
“I realized how dependent the Nowheresville, Kentucky’s economy is on the Wal-Mart, so now I am afraid to go to work in case there is a terrorist attack, like when they blew up the towers.”
He explained that typing your work all over again sentence for sentence and word for word will help you think critically about what you’ve written. It highlights syntax, word choice, and tense shifts as well as other problems. It’s perhaps the most in depth first edit you can get.
I think we all could benefit from retyping our work, but wait a minute. Couldn’t we just print it out? Why can’t I just use willpower to not edit?
Well, while writing you’re usually fighting a lot of different urges to do other things. Writing is hard, and you might want to do something less hard. Ron Carlson wrote an entire book about this aspect of writing. This method would take willpower which could be diverted to your not checking Facebook or going outside and getting some Taco Bell when you should be writing.
“The machine says you have just enough willpower to go 230 words before watching more low quality uploads of ‘Rocket Power’ on Youtube.”
That caption reminds me; the internet might be a good reason to invest in a typewriter.
Edit: Upon reading this blog, Brantingham explained to me the internet is the best place to buy typewriters. This blew my mind, because I just imagined shipping costs would be ridiculous. I guess typewriters fit into those “fits it ships” boxes.
Read MoreTypewriter < Almost Anything These Days
This is a blog I wrote a few years back (circa 2010) about the glorification of new writers who use typewriters. Although, I’ve slightly changed my opinions a little bit since then. Next time, I’ll address the benefits of a typewriter.
I’m under the impression that anyone who romanticizes a typewriter has never actually used one. They just romanticize it, because it was used by the Modernists and early Post-Modernist writers, whom everyone wants to grow up to be. (I’m assuming that they all used these. Frankly, a writer knowing how another writer got their story in typeface is as useful as a scientist knowing how Steven Hawkings gets his theories out of his talking chair and into books.) Somehow they think that the magic of obnoxiously loud and slow clicking banging of keys and blaring ring at the end of each line like an M1 Grand (Yeah, I have played a Call of Duty game) will somehow hyper-tune them into the literary ether.
The reason all the Modernists used a typewriter (I’m assuming) is that it was faster than writing everything by hand, and it was the latest technology of the time. When I write I cannot type my words out fast enough. My mind goes too quickly. So then I find myself trying to recreate that comparably perfect wording that first passed through my head. And this is on a laptop.
Look into the Modernist/occultist practice of automatic writing. Essentially it is where one person will dictate a story to someone else who would write it down. It was believed to be almost a channeling of something otherworldly. It requires quick notation, and I’m sure they’d use an MP3 recorder and a word processor if they had them.
The biggest reason that I’m against this idea that typewriters make you more of a “writer” is because they don’t help your writing. I would recommend writing on a PDA or a smart phone before I’ll recommend writing on a typewriter. They have spell check, grammar check, and now diction check. I don’t care how well you spell, how great your grammar is, or how perfect your typing is; it could be better. The computer provides you with your first edits. The typewriter provides you with a need for ribbons and white-out.
“Besides, real writers use quills” (obviously an update from the 2010 draft).
Also even though computers aren’t the most reliable things in the world, they aren’t thrown out of order from a cliched gust of wind. You can even e-mail your Word document to yourself in case your house burns down. No need for a fireproof safe (If you’re working on a typewriter and don’t have a fireproof safe for your yet-to-be-published work then you’re just tempting fate). That e-mail will even work as a poor man’s copyright (time stamped by a 3rd party and usable as evidence in court).
Now I can understand some reasons why you might use a typewriter. If you need candles, a glass red wine you picked up for eight dollars from the local CVS, and a typewriter in order to feel inspired, then more power to you. Or if you’re from the old generation and you’re more familiar with a typewriter then go for it. As long as stories get storied and poesy gets poesied. It doesn’t matter what gimmick you have to motivate you, but it doesn’t make you closer to the platonic ideal of the writer.
Next time, the real benefits of a writer using a typewriter!