It's the last day for me at Banff. Sorry I didn't keep a regular journal, reader, (Hey Dust, you out there?) but this has been such an intense experience I still don't feel good about putting it down in words. This is more a touch base, "yeah I'm still living" kind of a thing.
I cannot believe how much I've learned. And I cannot tell you how good it feels to be treated as someone who will be published. I know, that sounds a little odd, but here everything we've been taught (the individual critiques, the lessons and information sessions) have all had publishing as the goal. The instructor could have prefaced almost every line with "To publish you must --"
And he pulls no punches.
I, unfortunately, have a "writerly tic." (I say things twice -- and sometimes three or more times in a row. For emphasis, I thought.) He found them, tore them from my manuscript, read them aloud to show just how aggravating they are (and after the fifteenth, it sounded God awful. I could write for a soap opera.), then showed me what I could do to eradicate them and make my work stronger. But as he was ripping them out and displaying them so everyone at the table could learn from my mistake I understood why I do it. It's because I don't trust my own words. I'm afraid people won't get the importance -- and so I beat them over the head.
Believe me, this was not the only lesson I was handed concerning my writing. (Melodramatic interior monologues -- God, maybe I SHOULD write for a soap opera.) The writerly tic was (believe it or not) the least embarrassing one to talk about. (NEVER mention the doughnut shop scene to me again. Ever.) And there were a ton of lessons just like that, learned by all of us, every day. With everyone's manuscripts, not just my own. It is so much information that I'm in overwhelm right now, and as I said at the beginning of this, I need to process it all in order to get the most out of everything.
So, I'm still alive. And I'll be going home tomorrow. I'm glad, but at the same time, I don't know if I ever want to leave. I am going to miss these people, this place, and even the mountains. Know what I mean?
3 comments:
Rob liked to keep hammering home his lessons, didn't he? Oh my God, I get the point...can't we just move on? But he hammers, and hammers.
You say that only one person reads your blog...well, now you have two! I'm still in Banff as I write this -- but there's no one else from the program left. The place isn't the same...it was ALL the people.
I can hardly wait to start reading your next chapters...
Hey Lady,
I'm out here and I do understand. I'm so glad you got what you needed out of the workshop. I'm sure if you write down what you did (more writing?) in a point-form kind of thing, it migh help you figure out what actually happened out there. I'm excited to hear about it.
Take a few days and relax. I'll bug you after that.
Dust
Good lord woman, I can't wait until our meeting on the 17th to hear what else you learned. OK. I've decided I'm switching jobs to a poor one (no more eating out for me), but I will save money *no matter what* for Banff for sure. Your one comment hit home for me - you repeat things because of fear. That's why I use words like "just" and "almost". Fear, fear, fear. Who knew it would be so difficult to trust the audience, or more importantly, our own words?
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