I’m trudging my way through Miss Snark’s archives and somewhere in there she posted this article regarding creative writing workshops and just what they churn out. Now don’t get me wrong. I’m a fan of the creative writing workshops. Lets face it. I wouldn’t be where I am now in my writing skills if I hadn’t taken them but, on the grander scale, perhaps they may be a little more harmful than helpful, especially for the susceptible minds that are willing to do anything and everything to “make it big” in writing (really, quite a laughable concept, go ahead, say it out loud and NOT make a funny face).

In the writing workshops I took, the emphasis was on quality, seeing the flaws in your own writing and carving out the better writer in you. These were taken at a state university so they were blissfully free of most of the pretentiousness, although I can’t say that there weren’t any people that couldn’t tell you what the inside of their own ass smelled like. Unwarranted and small dog, especially for where we were.

During the classes, and even still now, I loved my teacher. Not in a Cameron/House kind of love, just that I’m forever grateful for what he taught me and he taught it with an added level of snark and self-mocking and I think would be devoid in other literary teachers at the hoitier toiter schools. With hindsight though, I can’t help but see just a slight hint of snobbishness there in the fact that my teacher hated genre anything and would steadfastedly jump on anything that was genre and try to mutated it otherwise. I know that firsthand. I had written a genre piece once, horror, which made him want to put his head through a wall but I will readily admit the advice he gave for it made it a much better story. Reading it now . . . I don’t think it’s so great but from what I remember of the first draft, much, much better. Oh what would he say to know that I’m actually writing in the bane of genres, fantasy?

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