Day Seven in Boston - Convoluted Time and Shutting Up

Day Six of the Residency.  I find myself pondering the  magical and relative nature of time.  As the Good Doctor said: "... from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint - it's more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly... time-y wimey... stuff."  I've been here only seven days and six of those have been spent going to workshops, meeting and fostering relationships with fellow writers, attending lectures, zipping in and out of the cafeteria and various bathrooms, pouncing on naps, putting dibs on showers, waking early, waking late, but always waking in time.  Time.  Only six days and it feels like a month.  A good month.  That is why today, after workshop and lunch, I took a four hour nap.  It was glorious and further disrupted my concept of time and rhythm while stealing precious little moments which I could have put to better use, but didn't and will never get back, but that is just life and, do I regret my nap?  No.  I do not.

This morning's workshop was interesting.  Sandra is indeed a 'tough one' and she even told us that she knew we'd all been warned of this trait.  Owning up to it doesn't make her seem less scary.  For about three hours I sat there, frightened to say anything.  The first time I spoke, it was to tell her of my love for Robert E. Howard.  First of all, she doesn't like that I don't have a contemporary author to fan-girl over and second of all, she didn't like that I gushed over his brilliance without giving her a taste of 'what he writes like.'  I thought my explanation of his fight scenes coming from his own personal experience was some sort of indication, but apparently I was wrong.  Then, because I thought she wanted us to be succinct in our answers, I spoke quickly and briefly of 'observations' that I'd made in the first piece for workshop.  This resulted in her telling me that I couldn't just say 'word play' because it didn't mean anything in relation to the piece, and also that I had to slow down and give multiple examples of tense shifts.  I thought I'd be giving those examples later... when I was allowed to talk.   She talked about trying to give the workshop piece plot and said she had no idea how one might do that.  People made little suggestions.  I made a suggestion and was told that my suggestion worked as a perfect example of what never to do.  She said that I was imposing my own creativity onto the piece.  I thought I was brainstorming.  My bad.  The next time I spoke it was in relation to a character's motivation and she told me that I was reading way too much into things and that I shouldn't try to psychoanalyze.  So I kept quiet for a while.  And then she asked us to think of something that would put a character in a state of disequilibrium (and I love that she used this word!) and so I gave her my example after everyone else had gone and it was sort of expected of me to talk.  She pretty much rolled her eyes and said "Oh, dear God."  By the time workshop was over I had learned... a few things (mainly I learned that I like the idea of disequilibrium) about writing.  The real lesson, however, was 'you're comments are not necessary.'  I'm fine with this.  I am perfectly happy to sit back and listen and jot down notes.  And I wouldn't even mind having her for a mentor (as that is very possible at this point), but what troubles me is the disregard.  I felt fairly humiliated.  Which is why I went and took a four hour nap.  The world is clearer now and I know that I will be able to keep my mouth shut tomorrow.  I will avoid giving her the option to belittle me and in that I will be able to take in her lessons more readily.  She is hard, but I am very excited to learn from her.  The fact that she left a bitter imprint on me this first day leads me to believe that, in the end, she may well become one of my favorites since I'm drawn to hard asses and challengers.

Something else I learned today, from conversation concerning the piece I read for the student reading yesterday, was that I come off very strongly as a writer of YA fiction.   My characters (many of them, it seems) have all the makings for the ideal, youthful protagonists that we find in stories such as The Drowned Cities, The Bartimaeus Trilogy, Harry Potter, and others.  This is not to say that my writing is anywhere near as fascinating, exciting, or sculpted as the aforementioned works, but that perhaps my characters would be happier in worlds meant for a 12-18 audience.  I don't know.  It's an option.  I can focus on YA next semester if I choose, but I think that depends a great deal on new pieces and my handling of them.

Tonight's readings were excellent.  Kathy Aguero, one of three wonderful authors to share their work, read an excerpt from a story talking about dealing with a parent growing old and succumbing to Alzheimer's.  It was absolutely beautiful and the juxtaposition between infants (and children) and the elderly has never been drawn so perfectly.  I turned to Marilyn after the reading and told her that everyone who works in health care should read this story because it paints a whole new perspective on what is really going on within the minds of those that we discount as lost.  Just gorgeous.