Here’s the recap:

I tripped over my own rules when I projected the Hemingway paragraph from yesterday’s post, only to realize that it only contains two sentences and thus violates my three-sentence requirement. I’ll either tweak or dump that rule.

Otherwise the material held up well.

I was especially pleased with the demonstration paragraphs, which we used to help diagnose student work. There are, of course, all kinds of grafs, but it was nice to be able to refer back to the Hemingway (taking care of business), the Clarke (almost pure voice) and the Mason (somewhere in between).

There was another nice moment when we talked about how reading is an unselfconscious act, while writing is a highly selfconscious act. We used this concept to keep us from overthinking our critiques.

It’s easy to put on your smartypants writing hat on and forget that reading is a very simple act. As writers we obsess over every detail, but as readers we’re more inclined to take the text as it comes. This highlights the importance of taking care of the basics.

We’ll see what the evaluations say, but it seemed to me that another strong feature of the class was calling attention to each paragraph’s entrance and exit. Each graf is like a little story. You hook, you build, you resolve (but not too much). In the last example of the night, we were able to radically improve the paragraph simply by cleaning up the out.

That’s all I have for now, my friends. Be good and mind your paragraphs. You are nothing without them.

As part of my preparation I’ve redefined the paragraph. Here are my thoughts:

1. At least three sentences

A handful of words that start out indented is not a paragraph in my world. There’s not enough time/space to fully develop an idea, communicate a piece of information, or evoke an emotion.

(Sidebar: Next time you see a one-sentence paragraph, try testing it out as the last sentence of the preceding paragraph or the first sentence of the next. You with me on that?)

2. A pleasing shape

Enter, develop, exit: you can’t go wrong with the basics. Check out this graf from Bobbie Ann Mason’s “Love Life”:

On the table beside Opal is a Kleenex box, her glasses case, a glass of Coke with ice in it, and a cut-glass decanter of clear liquid that could just be water for the plants. Opal pours some of the liquid into the Coke and sips slowly. It tastes like peppermint candy, and it feels soothing. Her fingers tingle. She feels happy. Now that she is retired, she doesn’t have to sneak into the teachers’ lounge for a little swig from the jar in her pocketbook. She still dreams algebra problems, complicated quadratic equations with shifting values and no solutions. Now kids are using algebra to program computers. The kids in the TV stories remind her of the students at Hopewell High. Old age could have a grandeur about it, she thinks now that the music surges through her, if only it weren’t so scary.

We enter with the “could just be water” mystery. We exit on a primal emotion. In between there’s a nice, building portrait of a retired, alcoholic math teacher that the world’s left behind.

There’s nothing fancy about this paragraph, which was first published in The New Yorker, by the way. It just works.

3. A primary objective

A great paragraph can be a three-ring circus of awesome, but it still has a Primary Objective. The P.O. could be anything (plot, character, voice, etc.) but the paragraph must meet this objective. Otherwise it’s a failure.

Take a look at this graf from Ernest Hemingway’s THE SUN ALSO RISES:

We came into the town on the other side of the plateau, the road slanting up steeply and dustily with shade-trees on both sides, and then leveling out through the new part of town they are building up outside the old walls. We passed the bull-ring, high and white and concrete-looking in the sun, and then came into the big square by a side street and stopped in front of the Hotel Montoya.

Hemingway busts some signature moves in this graf. Say “high and white and concrete-looking” out loud and feel your voice rise and drift and then crash down, just as your eyes would when driving past a large, imposing structure.

But he’s also doing very basic work. He’s getting you to the hotel. Take this paragraph slowly (phrase by phrase) and marvel at the clarity: over plateau, up road (trees on side), level through new construction (old walls in background), past bull ring, into square, stop at hotel.

Paragraphs like these are like potato chips: you just keep eating and eating and eating until suddenly you realize you’ve plowed through half the bag.

4. Music and energy

This graf is from Susanna Clarke’s showstopping fantasy novel JONATHAN STRANGE & MR NORRELL:

It has been remarked (by a lady infinitely clever than the present author) how kindly disposed the world in general feels to young people who either die or marry. Imagine then the interest that surrounded Miss Wintertowne! No young lady ever had such advantages before: for she died upon the Tuesday, was raised to life in the early hours of Wednesday morning, and was married up on the Thursday; which some people thought too much excitement for one week.

That voice! Saying “the Tuesday.” Writing “how kindly disposed the world in general feels” instead of “how the world in general feels kindly disposed.” Dryly portraying death and resurrection as “advantages.”

Voice is more readily identifiable in a satire like JONATHAN STRANGE & MR NORRELL, but even more serious writers can learn from the tempo, timing and pacing of comedic writing. One of our goals in the glass will be to become more aware of the music in our own work.

If only writing them were as easy as formatting them

Before I start blasting away with Facebook and Gmail, I wanted to give the good readers of DCWYTBMA the first shot at an exciting and innovative new class I’m teaching at The Loft.

It’s called Paragraph Party and it’s based on the simple premise that writing lives and dies at the paragraph level.

If you can make paragraphs that are energetic, shapely, informative, stylish, thoughtful, purposeful and true, then you’re going to have a wonderful career.

If you can’t make those kinds of paragraphs, then you’re going to have a much less wonderful career.

Solution: Paragraph Party!

This is not a mechanics class. We’re not going to be talk about topic sentences and supporting sentences and so forth. Instead we’re going to use the paragraph as a springboard for talking about all aspects of writing. And we’re going to do it using student work. And we’re going to do it live.

Here’s how it works:

1. Sign up for the class.

2. Before class you will send me a paragraph from one of your many delightful works in progress.

3. I will take all paragraphs and load them into a special Paragraph Projecting Device that I have commissioned expressly for this purpose.

4. On the day of the class I will project paragraphs onto the wall. Then we’ll break them down and build them back up until they’re perfect little gems of pure delight.

5. Jokes, asides, wisdom (and possibly snacks) included.

The first Paragraph Party is on Tuesday, August 4th. The cost is $40 for nonmembers, $36 for members. Space is limited, so if you’re interested sign up now. You will not be disappointed.

See you in school.

BASIC STRUCTURE

Two-year program, trimester system, three classes a term for a total of 18 classes.

REQUIRED COURSES

The almighty page

The Sentence

The Paragraph

The Scene

Basic Dramatic Structure

Research, planning, and project management

Introduction to Project Management

Basic Research Techniques for Writers

The business of writing

Introduction to Magazine and Book Publishing

The Internet for Writers

The writing life

Introduction to the Writing Life

How to Have Something to Say

ELECTIVES

The almighty page

Experimental fiction, tricky structure, voice, comedy writing, genre writing, literary fiction, etc.

Research, planning, and project management

Historical research, scientific research, planning a novel, how to collaborate, etc.

The business of writing

Pitching, media training, managing your web presence, etc.

The writing life

Psychology of writing, managing creative energy, developing your relationship to the world, how not to become a drunk, etc.

WHAT WE WON’T COVER

There will be no assigned reading or critiquing of literature in class. The school will publish a list of foundational books, films, plays, poems, etc. References to these works may or may not come up in class. Act accordingly.

There will be less of an emphasis on critiquing completed work in class. Class time is dedicated to developing specific skills. Integrating those skills happens on your own time, as does how your peers, your professors, etc. react to said integration.

GRADUATION REQUIREMENTS

The school runs three publications staffed by independent editors who are advised by faculty and alumni.

The publications are broken into three tiers, a highly competitive publication that also publishes established writers, a mid-range publication that also takes outside submissions, and a student-only publication that is the most forgiving, but that still reserves the right to reject your work.

In your first year you’re eligible to be published by the two lower-tier publications. The top-tier publication is open to second-year students only.

To graduate you have to get through the publication process once at the top tier or twice at the second tier or three times at the bottom tier. (Graduation requirement is waived in the event you get a book deal, publish with a national magazine, etc.)

You can take as long as you want to graduate. You get your shingle when you make it into print.

I know both Frank and Eric and can vouch for their radness. For those of you who are looking for a class this summer you can do no better.

The Search for Story: Writing Narrative Nonfiction

To be a successful nonfiction writer these days, it’s not enough to know how to type, to have a blog, or to be able to put an article together. To write powerfully in today’s media environment, you need to be able to tell great stories. In this class, we’ll look at the evolution of narrative nonfiction and New Journalism. We’ll review some of the master nonfiction writers and learn how to apply narrative techniques in profiles, travel stories, features, and essays. Advanced or professional writers only. Please submit two writing samples (maximum of 5,000 words per sample) or clips to Loft Education by Friday, June 19 (not postmark deadline). Accepted students notified by July 1.

Frank Bures is an award-winning writer whose work has been featured in Harper’s, Esquire, Outside, Mother Jones, and other magazines. His work was included in the Best American Travel Writing 2004, received a Lowell Thomas Award in 2007, and will be included in the Best American Travel Writing 2009. He is a contributing editor at Poet & Writers and the Travel Channel’s WorldHum.com.  More at frankbures.com

Short-Short Stories

Short-shorts can lean toward fables, sketches, jokes, parables, meditations, and anecdotes; they may be narrative or lyric. “Part of the fun of writing them is the sense of slipping between the seams,” says Stuart Dybek. The form resists definition, which may be why short-shorts go by a variety of names: flash, micro, sudden, and quick fiction. Because of their brevity (typically 1,000 words or less) and often experimental nature, they provide a great opportunity to work on elements of craft: tone and voice, in particular. We’ll do exercises to generate material, discuss work by authors like Calvino, Oates, Boyle, and Saunders, and workshop student stories. Small copy fee payable to teaching artist.

Eric Vrooman’s short fiction has appeared in the Kenyon Review, Minnesota Monthly, the Cream City Review, Passages North, Ninth Letter, and elsewhere. Before completing an MFA in fiction at the University of North Carolina, Wilmington, he was a literary agent for the Lazear Agency. He has taught creative writing at Tulane University and Gustavus Adolphus College. He is currently at work on a collection of nontraditional form fiction (short-shorts, primarily).