It Took Me Years to Write, Will You Take a Look?
Alex Manley on Hiding Within Your Writing
A creative writing workshop is usually a writer’s first encounter with a critical audience. It can, at times, be painful to endure (it can feel like a trial, really), but it can also be illuminating because it can be difficult to understand what elements make a short story effective on one’s own.
Writing, as previously mentioned is an isolated task where the reader is long forgotten, and abstraction can predominate.
A fellow writer, editor, or passionate reader can pinpoint where the prose and storytelling fail to engage, and this is crucial, because so many writers often overlook storytelling; novices often claim that they are natural-born storytellers. This is only true for a small percentage of the population – the Zadie Smith of the graduating class, for instance.
But even Zadie Smith struggles with fiction, “It makes me feel really anxious, writing fiction…I want to be right and in fiction, you can never be right. […] I never know what it is I want to write in fiction. I don’t know what would be best. But when I’m writing non-fiction, I feel the facts are such a fantastic anchor and that I’m in control, I think. But when you’re in the middle of a novel and enjoying a novel — there’s no greater feeling. That’s such a sensation, when it’s going well. But for everyday kind of cheeriness, I’d much rather write non-fiction, to be honest.”
As difficult as fine-tuning your craft may be, sharing your work with fellow writers is necessary. The criticism is valuable, even though it is difficult to sit there quietly while others lay into your grammar, style, and prose.
Creative writing is so personal, private; the writing is essentially “based on what’s inside your mind and where you grew up,” as Alex Manley put it. “Sometimes, others just don’t understand what it is you’re trying to do.”
Alex, a Creative Writing major at Concordia, has been workshopped many times. He admits that workshopping, even with your peers, doesn’t get any easier.
“This year was… tough. I was workshopped four times. Two out of the four times, I handed in something difficult and problematic. It was also my fault – they weren’t as polished as they should have been. I also had terrible writing instincts. Other people’s visions got to me. I thought of quitting the program entirely. I know that all writers struggle. I know that all writers don’t get the feedback they want. But still, I wanted to quit. It was physically taxing. I didn’t know if these workshops were hurting or helping anymore.”
You just can’t produce good writing without the consciousness of the baggage of writing. I didn’t become a good writer until I started interacting with other writers.
“But it is important to struggle like this with a readership, an en-masse response,” he added. “You need the experience. You have your writerly instincts colliding with others’ opinions. You just can’t produce good writing without the consciousness of the baggage of writing. I didn’t become a good writer until I started interacting with other writers. I recently read over the portfolio I submitted with my application to the program. It was shitty. I can look at it now, with all its flaws, and ask myself what I was thinking when I submitted it.”
An outside eye can steer the wayward writer banging on a typewriter, or on computer keys; an editor is always thinking about the bigger picture: the audience’s perspective.
Alex Manley is also an editor at The Link, as well as an intern for Maisonneuve Magazine.
“I know that the creative process can be strong and powerful, and that’s why a story or book is just as strong as the relationship between the author and the editor. No one knows how to write. For one, even great writers don’t have a sense of context – the magazine or paper as a whole. For two, the editor knows the medium; knows the publication inside and out. And finally, the article needs to be polished and tailored to the situation: sometimes the personality needs to be stripped down to be more palatable.
“But that’s a fine line to walk,” he continued. “The other thing is that some writers – fiction, non-fiction – are so preoccupied with proving that they’re smart. Sometimes, you need to make intelligence as invisible as possible in a story. Those stories, the ineffective ones, prove that writing isn’t easy. It’s easy to come up with ideas, sure. But you want to tell some people ‘You’re smart, so what? Write something good and then we’ll talk.’ I’m just as guilty, so I can say that.”
What do you write? What did you do wrong in those two short stories?”
“I backtrack. I’m self-effacing. I’m afraid the reader will see me.”
“Why?”
“Because genesis is the true aspect of a writer. I have to remove the story from myself, and I don’t know if that’s right. My stories sometimes come from sexual fantasies, and I really need to drape over the sex, love, and romance. I’ll take it as far away as possible. I’ll bury the idea deep within the story, so workshops are difficult because sometimes it feels like people are slowly peeling away at the layers, and that they’re getting to me — that they’re seeing me. You know, you make things real when you turn them into stories.”
So why does Alex pursue journalism when he writes fiction and poetry? Why does everyone else, for that matter? Because publishing times are tough. Also, many writers build a readership through the strength, style, and attention-grabbing focus needed in journalism. And book reviews, for instance, preserve critical presence.
“You need to adapt what you learn as a writer, and you need to get people interested in writing,” said Manley. “The writing community has failed to engage. I mean look at the persona of the poet: the self-indulgent loser who only cares about himself. But then you look at a lead singer of a band – the same dude! – and there’s this ‘aura around his music.’ Music just has better PR. The writing community needs to come together and remind people that writing is powerful. We need to build more of a culture around it.”
So, what about writing? Why does Alex still want to be a writer?
“Writing is all about grind, practice, perseverance, and not giving up. It can be tough. There’s no money, no TV appearances, no international celebrity for a lot of writers out there. It’s a strange pursuit, if you think about it: you’re going to be obscure and probably poor. More than anything else, I want a book or two in my name and maybe a hundred people who read them. No fame? I’m ok with that. You need to have this kind of conversation with yourself. But what’s so cool is that some people can be aware of you in the world through your writing — that you can make things about yourself real when you turn them into a story. You can exist through your writing even when no one remembers you, or knows who you are.”
