The Rules

On the first day of each new quarter, I tell whatever creative writing class that I happen to be teaching that there are five rules which must never be broken while in my class. After reading this well-reasoned story in the Boston Globe (link via the OG Bookslut), I'm reminded why, exactly, I have these rules -- specifically, I'm reminded by this passage:

Novelist Douglas Bauer, currently the writer-in-residence at Smith, asked his creative writing students what their memories were of early high school English. They loved Twain, Poe, John Irving, Haruki Murakami, he reports, but rolled their eyes at ''The Great Gatsby." Bauer was dumbfounded. How could they miss the allure of this haunting classic?

Because they were forced on pain of death to expound on the meaning of the green light at the end of Daisy Buchanan's dock. Enter the Godzilla of high school English -- the dreaded metaphor. ''Why the obsession with the green light? Because it's the way the teachers were taught," says Bauer.

The goddamned metaphor is the bane of my existence. Oh, now, realize that I write them, certainly, though I don't think I do it with any kind of forethought, they just occur. But the need to point it out, expound on it, explore it until the story lacks all the originality and heart it once had, no thanks. My rules are simple. When workshopping these terms and actions are never allowed to occur:

1. The word motif. As in, "What was the motif you were aiming for with this story of alien sexbots?" Not for nothing, but really, who gives a fuck?

2. The term vis-a-vis. If you regularly say vis-a-vis in conversation, you are pretentious. No two ways around it. If you use vis-a-vis while workshopping -- as in, "Vis-a-vis the alien sexbot and the bounty hunter sent to eradicate it," -- you are also the kind of person who will someday later in life wear tweed to the extent that neighborhood kids will fear you, will tell stories about you long after your death, and one day they'll see your ghost as just a mist appearing outside of the men's suits department at Sears and they will fear you, your tweed, and the scent of Gray Flannel cologne.

3. Air quotes. Are you directly quoting? Are you using a word out of context? Are the rest of the people in the room rudimentary sign language users? We're writers. We understand context and significance when you speak. If you don't believe this is true, try Air Underlining or Air Italics next time.

4. The word theme. See motif. And then get your head out of your ass. Who cares about theme? I mean, really, when you walk into Barnes & Noble, do you say, "I'd like to find a book today with a really good theme," or when you see an ad on TV for a new movie like, say, Sahara, do you immediately begin wondering about how cool the theme will be? No. No you don't. Do you know why? Because it is bullshit you learned in high school because your teacher was lazy. I had a student last quarter that I rather liked personally, but her story suffered because she kept talking about getting the metaphor and theme right, until finally I said, "Who gives a fuck about theme and metaphor? Let's see a show of hands." No one raised their hands -- well, okay, one person did, but she dropped the class with two weeks left, so she doesn't count -- and I said, "No one gives a fuck about theme and metaphor except high school English teachers." I then remembered, uh, yeah, she was a high school English teacher.

5. The term, "But that's how it really happened." A few quarters ago, someone said this during week three and I responded, as I'm wont to do, "I don't give a fuck about how it really happened, this is fiction." The student subsequently began to cry, which is never good, because, well, I never want people to cry because that just sucks, and then I had to stop the class an explain exactly why I don't give a fuck, which made the person cry even more. So here's the deal: if you want to write what really happened, write nonfiction.

Comments

[Angela Stubbs]

I'm laughing so hard right now because it's so true. All those ridiculous essays in English classes you had to write about the two main themes in Book X. And compare and contrast.

Thanks to Tod for calling out those who still do it. It makes for far better fiction. You get such an interesting bunch of students everytime. I dont' envy the job of figuring out who's gonna be a nut.

But, as always, you make things fun. So thanks for that.

[James C. Hess]

--sigh--

It is rather comforting to know I am not alone in the universe when it comes to handling would-be writers and authors in writing workshops. Bless be the Writer who manages to hold his temper while explaining to the ink-stained wretch who writes such tripe as:

"The Captain barked, 'Bring me the light!'"

that this be shit before you.

I dunno what The Captain had for lunch but if he be 'barking' I wanna be as far upwind from him as possible.

[Casper Vidor]

Extent, not extend. You teach? Good god!

[The Evil J Winter]

One of my high school English teachers was exactly this kind of pretentious bitch. Told me I was going to Hell for reading science fiction, which is not "literature." (Yes, I meant to use air quotes. Nice effect this time, eh?)

We had to do a collage based on some poem about the sun rising over a city. I cobbled together two cigarette ads - One a Marlboro ad with a blood red sunset and the other a Kool ad with a photo of some midwestern city at dusk just as the lights were coming up. I got an F because I could not provide a metaphor for the Kool billboard in the center of the collage.

Actually, I might have gotten a C if I hadn't said "Bite me, you stupid hag." I also might have avoided one of the last spankings I ever got from my mother (I was 15.), who babysat in high school for said pretentious fucktard.

Two years later, American Lit class. Same poem, different teacher. Mr. Murphy (aka GOD in my book) asked, "So what's this poem mean to you?" I said I thought it was like the 19th century version of Journey's "Lights."

Mr. Winter not only got an A for free thinking, he got to pretty much skate the rest of the semester. And mother was happy. She babysat the Murphy kids in high school, too.

Gimme a loud ex-Marine and former steelworker anyday over an opera-loving, theme-hugging, metaphor-spouting twit. I might actually learn something.

[Tod Goldberg]

One of my other rules, Casper, is that we don't point out typos as if they are an injustice to man and god and Dave Navarro. But I thank you for the copyediting and the changes have been made.

[James C. Hess]

Ah, the not-so elusive literary sparrowfart.

Sounds like a production for the Discovery Channel.

Or PBS.

[Harry]

I like theme.

[Graham]

If you have to use a theme, use the theme from Shaft. Or Peter Gunn - that's pretty cool too.

[Simon]

I like theme and motif. But then, I know and appreciate what they mean. A motif (a term borrowed from painting) is a textual picture; a theme (a term borrowed from music) is a recurring idea that serves to unify the text.

I will always strive to include meaningful motifs and themes in my writing, because I don't want to write one-dimensional, meaningless shit.

Meaningless shit would be the result of expunging motifs and themes from your writing. I don't believe any enjoyable writer does that, though, no matter how loud he or she screams.

[Holly Lisle]

There's nothing mystical or complex about theme. There are, of course, teachers who try to make it something mystical and complex. But there are teachers who make arithmetic into something that could baffle Mandelbrot, too.

The theme is the compelling question that drove the writer to write the damn book in the first place. If you're a writer, you don't own the theme; the theme owns you. Why does horrible shit happen to good people? is a theme. Who is God, and why is he screwing up my life? is a theme.

Some themes are weak, and some are pointless, but the good themes are the ones that make a book stick with us years after we read it, and that drive us to read the same book over and over again.

[Keith]

You're posturing in this passage, so I can't tell how much is just attitude and how much you really believe. So I'll just take it at face value.

I think you've mistaken your personal tastes for something else. Motif, theme, metaphor... they're basic elements of fiction, right along with plot, motivation, story question, style, and whatever else. They exist. Anything that exists is worth discussing, because it's there. If you don't want to think about certain aspects of writing, that's your business--but forbidding their mention in a writing class? I can see it if you want them to get their heads around plot and character first, but a writing teacher who outright despises any discussion of theme? I'd quit the class too. In disgust.

"They just occur?"

So does dialogue.

So do characters.

So do plots.

But for some reason, "theme" is the thing that "just occurs" that you refuse to examine.

We all hated high school English--I outright refused to read any of the assigned materials. We all hated comparing and contrasting. Once I'm the grownup taking the money, though, I owe my paying students more than just my personal distastes. We're not all practicing exactly the same art, and we don't all need to think about the same issues.

Yeah, maybe 1% of the readership will get the metaphors. So what? The other 99% aren't there for that particular pleasure.

But a coherent theme, a coherent running metaphor or play of imagery? For the 1% attuned to that level, it's an additional pleasure. Last I paid any attention, giving the reader pleasure is one of the basic ideas here. Theme's another way of doing that.

Rotgut gives me the same buzz as an expensive Islay scotch; but I think I'll keep drinking Laphroaig. There's more pleasure to it--but not if you're not paying attention.

As for "opera-loving" as an epithet, Jim:

Guess that would be me, tough guy.

 

[Sandy]

I hated having to try to find the symbolism in the Great Gatsby in HS english, too. Hated it. Haven't been able to bring myself to reread the book as an adult, either, as a result. Maybe one of these days. HS english didn't manage to ruin Shakespeare for me, at least.

Oh, and you missed want/wont in the last paragraph, too. :)

[Chris]

I can't imagine a good teacher being proud of the fact that the one student with balls enough to disagree with him wound up quitting the class.

[tod goldberg]

Keith, in the immortal words fo Sgt. Hulka, settle down Francis. I don't rule with an iron hand, I don't beat people to death with dictionaries and then spit on their corpses. It's a joke, rooted in truth, naturally, but a joke no less and the class understands that.

Of course novels and stories will have themes and motifs and metaphors and if my books didn't, I would assume that they would be bland and boring crap filled tomes. (And there are some who would say that is absolutely true.) What my point is, as it relates to workshopping, is that these are contructs of high school english. When we talk about the novels and stories in my classes, we talk about the novels and stories. We point out metaphors that don't work, certainly, but as it relates to theme and motif, I have this silly rule because to the writers in the room it, to the man and to the woman, means nothing. "I don't think your novel is quite working yet because your motifs are bland." Uh, okay, I'll get to work on that. Now, if you point out where narrative is failing, or where dialogue is failing, or where the rise and fall of drama is absent and point out where these things occur, then you're addressing the issue as a whole, and not on some narrow term that is specificially difficult to pinpoint.

And when someone is asked in class, "What is the theme of your novel," the answer is typically: Love and redemption. The class nods their collective heads, the writer nods his or her head, and I sit there and wonder how, exactly, a novel about alien sexbots is about love and redemption. Is there a theme in every novel? Of course. But asking a person on page 1 to define it is counterintuitive in my opinion. Themes change as your novel changes and marrying yourself to a grand idea of theme is, I think, not always a wise decision. Novels are liquid. Novels are organic. Discuss the theme when you're done and being interviewed by Michael Silverblatt, because it likely won't be until then that you're really sure what it is.

Now, I don't hear anyone complaining about vis-a-vis...

[Clair Lamb]

I've taken Tod's class, and I'll vouch for his quality as a writing instructor. His point, which I endorse whole-heartedly, is that a writer's goal be to _tell a story_, first and foremost. If you know what story you want to tell, theme and motifs take care of themselves. Focusing on theme or motif before you tell the story is like trying to paint your kitchen before the drywall is up.

[tod goldberg]

Chris, c'mon. I'm not proud of anyone quitting and I'd wager to say that she didn't show up for the classes not because she disagreed with me. She likely did on some points, but the impression you're getting is not the fact of the matter. You know what makes me happy? People writing well. People succeeding with their writing, achieving their dreams, etc. I teach because part of the job of being a writer is that our art is not proprietary -- I've always believed that the knoweledge you have in this art is to be passed on and shared. No one has to take my advice. No one is forced. No one is even really graded. As Lloyd Dobler was told outside the Gas-n-Sip, it's a conscious choice on the part of the person taking part. If they don't like my opinion, that's fine. When I was taking workshops, the opinions I least appreciated were typically the ones that told me the most about my work. I'm just like anyone else in that regard: I want the praise. But I never learned anything from someone telling me what I wanted to hear.

[Danny Adams]

Yes, I remember next to nothing about metaphors and themes from High School English (all caps intentional). What I remember from my English classes were when we dived into the *story*, rather than "What is the author trying to accomplish?" (Somehow answering "The author wanted to tell a good story that people would enjoy reading" was never a good enough answer in high school.)

[The Evil J Winter]

Actually, pretentious English teacher loved opera. What does that mean? Nothing. So does this guy, and I love his stuff.

It's not that people talk about theme or motif; it's the false emphasis that gets placed on them. What I want to know is why no one ever remembers that the green light at the end of Daisy's dock is actually a plot point and not a symbol of anything in GATSBY.

[I skipped it in high school and didn't read it until last year. Ah! The freedom from preconceived notions is a wonderful thing!]

[Keith]

I agree, the knowledge needs to be shared.

Putting aside that "settle down" never means anything in this kind of context but "shut up" (and isn't it "Lighten up, Francis?")... Theme--you lumped it in with motif and metaphor and dismissed them all.

If a writer's consciously using motifs, he's consciously using motifs. Solid story of primary importance? Yes, of course. But it's not true, in my experience, that if you tell a good story the "themes and motifs take care of themselves." They're put there by the author, just like everything else, and they can be strengthened consciously, just like everything else. When there's a way to strengthen them, it's a valid thing to bring up in a workshop--just like tone, character, plot, and everything else. Otherwise, you're missing an opportunity to improve the student's writing, which is your entire job description.

"Themes change as your novel changes and marrying yourself to a grand idea of theme is, I think, not always a wise decision.

What a straw man that is! Whoever said anything about marrying selves to grand themes? I think when somebody says "theme," you're the one marrying yourself to a grand idea of what that means, left over from Mrs. S. (I had a Mrs. S. too, at North Hollywood High, and she sucked the life out of every book)--and you react disproportionately. Okay, fine, you don't want to deal with anything called "theme." But we've still got those motifs and metaphors hanging around. Story's of primary importance in the end, but if a student thinks in patterns and imagery, those things are how she gets the story. I recently read NARRATIVE DESIGN by Madison Smartt Bell. Good discussion of this kind of thing, if you're interested.

[David J. Montgomery]

The last thing a neophyte writer needs to be worrying about is what the theme of his/her novel is. They'd be a lot better off focusing on telling a good story. Discussion of theme and the like is usually just posturing.

[Kristy]

I just finished a college paper whereby I had to compare and contrast a topic of my choosing. I should have compared rocks to pebbles is what I'm thinking now.

YOU JUST MADE ME CRY...and that SUCKS... *sniff*

teehee...the paper sucked.....the teacher loved it...I didn't care about it and thought it showed....I got an A on it. I got the last laugh. And it wasn't fiction...it was non...non-everything.

[Karen]

So who dropped out? The long-haired lady of a certain age -- the one who never submitted?

I had no idea theme was so controversial. It's good to see people hopping mad.

[Aldo]

The first rule of Write Club is.....

[tod goldberg]

Did I misquote Sgt. Hulka too? Well, the spirit of the quote was simply that you shouldn't take what I'm saying too seriously -- I'm not telling anyone to shut up, I wouldn't write this stuff if I didn't want to talk about it and Keith your opinions are well intentioned and interesting, it's simply that we come from two different schools of thought on this matter and that's fine. My basic thing when I teach creative writing is that I'm not teaching comparative lit or theory of fiction or english comp, but that I'm teaching writing, or, in some cases, teaching people how to look at their own writing as the reading public -- and agents and editors as well -- might, not people doing clinical studies of the work. My success rate in this regard isn't bad, if I do say so, but it certainly isn't for everyone. People drop. People get mad. And that's fine, too. But I have to say how cool it is that the most comments I've received in the last month are about...Theme! It means people still care about the craft and that encourages me.

Karen -- yes, same person.

[Christopher Beha]

Tod-
I'm sure you're not trying to get people to drop out of your class. I also understand that the post--and your in-class spiel--are rhetorical and not to be taken at face value.

That said, I'll bet you more than one out of twelve "common" readers cares deeply--even primarily-- about theme, i.e., cares about the issues a story was created to grapple with, at least as much as about the intrinsic interest of the story's events. So, when you say that you asked a loaded, aggressive question and the entire class conformed to your expectation, that mostly just tells me that you're a bully of a teacher.

As someone who has both taught and studied writing, I chafe at the idea of beginning a class, however jokingly, by laying out rules for how work can be discussed. Short of preventing people from being petty or mean to their classmates, the teacher should always strive to engender a full range of opinions.

In fairness, I don't know what kind of writers you teach. True novices may be best served by concentrating singularly on the mechanics of getting a story on the page. But it cuts both ways, in my experience: as often as students allow Lit-Crit bullshit to muddy their work, it is just as common for work to be vague or uninteresting precisely because the author hasn't taken any time to think about what larger issues led her to try to tell this story in the first place.

There are endless ways of approaching reading and writing good fiction. (I'm no relativist; not all of these ways were created equal.) It is natural and beneficial that a teacher hold firm to his prefered approach. At the same time, suggesting that all other approaches will be held prima facie in disdain hardly seems like a valuable approach.