Sometimes I Lurk Behind Geniuses
And I usually learn something when I do.
A long while ago, I was a graduate assistant at Vermont College of Fine Arts and in front of me were two tremendous writers: Shelley Tanaka and Julie Laros. They were both on faculty and giving lectures. And I was sort of trying to quietly fangirl their brains while also doing graduate assistant duties.
I imagined the conversation like this:
Me: Hm ... Perhaps I will lurk behind them in the lunch line and some of the brain waves will come over to me.
Julie: Shelley? Do you feel someone trying to suck out our brain cells?
Shelley: Yes, I do... Through the power of my amazing brain I can detect that.
Julie (Turning around and pointing): You! What are you doing with that giant suction cup.
Me (hiding suction cup in lentil goulash): Me? Nothing? Nothing!
Me (mumbling to self): Man, foiled again. No extra brain cells. No increased IQ. Darn....
Anyway, Shelley Tanaka's lecture was called: Mastering the Short Critical Essay: A Closer Look at This Essential Component of the MFA Program
My favorite hints Shelley gave were actually:
If you are writing an essay about a book you should read the damn book first
Don’t make the thesis statement too big like "All books by Roald Dahl have to do with children."
She also made some great points about how we must devote ourselves to intellectual thought so that we can make our creative work better.
Julie Larios' lecture was entitled: “How Poetry Works and How It Doesn’t, According to Me.”
Just the title cracked me up.
But then Julie said, "Poetry’s greatest weapon is indirection."
She even lectured poetically, full of sound and beauty.
My favorite part of her talk was when she discussed how everyone thinks that anyone can write a book and how it is so easy. People perceive of all the different arts as requiring years of practice. Except writing.
“They don’t recognize language as an instrument that you learn to play,” she said. “You have to learn to play the instrument of language.”
You can learn that language by yourself or you can learn it in a super-cool amazing MFA program or an editor or writing coach or teacher, but you still have to learn it.
I am still learning it.
She also recommended we ask these questions about our poetry, but I think we should ask it about ALL our writing:
Are you invested primarily in the emotion of the piece?
Are you invested in the information of the piece?
Are you invested only in the sound of the piece?
But here’s the thing. That’s not just about the things we write. It’s also about the thing we do, the moments we live, the choices we make, how we spend our time?
Are you invested primarily in the emotion of this moment?
Are you invested in the information of this moment?
Are you invested only in the sound of this moment?
And then maybe: why are you here, experiencing this moment? Is there something else?
What matters is being invested in yourself, your community, the people and animals and bits of the world that you love and bring you love, that help you find purpose.
My favorite quote that day as said by maintenance man upon seeing the third-floor lounge at Dewey Hall: Well, I guess there was a party up here. Man ...
That’s the thing though, right? Party. Enjoy the moments of your life, lean into the emotion of your life and be invested in it, but also, if you make a mess, maybe clean up after yourself.