VCFA Blog Initiative: "Finding the Heart of Your Story" by Pam Watts

The TeachingAuthors are proud to be part of the Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA) Summer Blog Initiative. We're especially pleased to be the first blog to feature these inspiring and practical posts by students and graduates of the MFA programs because four of us (Jeanne Marie Grunwell Ford, Carmela Martino, Mary Ann Rodman and JoAnn Early Macken) hold MFAs from Vermont College. As for me, I’ve vicariously attended Vermont College since it began in the late 90’s via my writing friends, colleagues and even students whom I recommended.  One of these days my Summer teaching schedule will change and I can at least attend a Summer Intensive.  (I’m saving the Winter Intensives for my Next Lifetime.)

Our series began last Monday with Jodi Paloni's entry, "The Point of Point of View." In last Wednesday's guest post, "Decide vs. Discover," Cynthia Newberry Martin shared a technique for letting the characters tell you what happens next in your story.  Sion Dayson gave us another method for moving forward in last Friday’s post, “What Happens Next? Inch Forward in the Dark.”  On Monday, Lynn Miller-Lachmann put forth the VCFA way to critique a fellow writer’s manuscript in "Critiquing Others" The Constructive Critique."

Today’s post by Pam Watts, "Finding the Heart in Your Story," addresses the heart of your story and how it can be found. It captured my writer’s heart instantly.  Following the post, I've offered a related Writing Workout.

The next stop in the VCFA blog initiative?  Pam's very own Strong in the Broken Places blog.

Thank you, Pam, for sharing your insights with our readers and writers.

Learning from you and your fellow VCFA bloggers these past two weeks gladdened this teacher's  heart immeasurably.--Esther Hershenhorn

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Finding the Heart in Your Story

I decided to be a writer after some minor success with my first book when I was seven. I took a year off from college ten years ago and blithely wrote my “first novel.” Ha.

Many critique groups, writing classes, and conferences later, my novel was going nowhere. But I was serious about this writing thing, so I found myself at Vermont College of Fine Arts. They gave me a scholarship when they admitted me. I thought I was Pretty Hot Stuff. I just needed to learn to turn a prettier phrase (but I thought my phrases were already fairly pretty). Again, can I say: Ha.

I got to my first workshop--the extremely squirm-worthy process whereby 15-20 extremely articulate students and a teacher who has written so many books that he could generate an award-winning plot in his sleep tell you exactly what is and isn’t working with your novel--and discovered from the inimitable Tim Wynne-Jones that my characters lacked emotion, my plot lacked internal logic, my language was altogether too flowery. Oh, and that setting I thought was Wales?--Well, it felt more like Ireland, actually.

I cried big, fat heavy tears alone in my dorm room. Then I put my hair up in a pompadour and I got on with life.

My first semester studying with one of my literary heroes -- Martine Leavitt--did not go any better. I spent the entire semester trying to convince her that she just hadn’t understood my perfect vision.

Now fast forward through three semesters, a few World Wars, and a great deal of craptastic writing to my penultimate residency. Here you will find me crying in my closet after my good friend Clete finished his graduate reading.

Why was I crying this time?

Because the story Clete read from was so deep and heartfelt and emotionally honest that I suddenly realized how much resistance I have to my own writing. I realized that I aggressively “try” so I don’t have to do the real work of writing from my heart.

I’d like to say that I’m a new person now, that I have no ego and I always dig deep. Sigh. But over the course of my last semester my writing did change. I started to actually listen to my wonderful advisor -- Margaret Bechard. My writing became a little darker, scarier, and more fluid. And I started to ask the question: why do I need to tell this story?

Now that I’ve graduated, that question is with me each time I sit down to write. And with it I’ve occasionally found a deep openness. This space is scary and so I often avoid it. But not always.

It’s a process.

Finding the heart of your story is like finding the heart of yourself. You never really get there, but every step you take gets you a little bit closer. And if it’s worth it to you, you keep going.

Pam Watts is a graduate of the Vermont College of Fine Arts MFA in Writing for Children & Young Adults Program. She writes fiction for teens, speaks about graphic novels and literacy at conferences, and blogs about children’s books and childhood adversity at Strong in the Broken Places. If you have questions or comments about this post, or about Vermont College, she can be reached directly at PamLWatts@gmail.com. 

Writing Workout

Your story’s heart and yours share the same blood supply. What’s pumping in one is pumping in the other. 
No bypass is surgically needed.

I recommend writers create a Writer’s Journal to use - in tandem – with the Writer’s Notebook they keep for each writing project.

In your Writer’s Journal, answer the questions below for the story you’re currently writing:

(1)    How might your character introduce you to an audience of writers and readers?
(2)    Why does your character NEED you to tell his/her/its story….and now?
(3)    What thoughts/concerns/worries might your character have about your keepin’ on…as you travel your writer’s plotline to tell his/her/its story?  How and why is he/she/it 100% certain you'll do just that?

VCFA Blog Initiative: Critiquing Others: The Constructive Critique by Lyn Miller-Lachmann

The TeachingAuthors are proud to be part of the Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA) Summer Blog Initiative. We're especially pleased to be the first blog to feature these inspiring and practical posts by students and graduates of the MFA programs because four of the TeachingAuthors (Carmela Martino, Mary Ann Rodman, JoAnn Early Macken, and I) hold MFAs from Vermont College. Last Monday, our series began with Jodi Paloni's entry, "The Point of Point of View." In Wednesday's guest post, "Decide vs. Discover," Cynthia Newberry Martin shared a technique for letting the characters tell you what happens next in your story. On Friday, Sion Dayson gave us another method for moving forward with "What Happens Next?"  Today we hear from Lyn Miller-Lachmann on the art of critiquing. --Jeanne Marie

Critiquing Others: The Constructive Critique by Lyn Miller-Lachmann

Before entering the Vermont College of Fine Arts program in Writing for Children and Young Adults, I had extensive experience in critique groups and workshops. Some of these were helpful, but others left me with more hard feelings than ideas for improving my work.

Like unhappy families, unsupportive critique groups can be unsupportive in many different ways. Some function as cheerleading squads, leaving the writer unprepared for the highly competitive and often cruel world of publishing. Others spend more time tearing down the work and the abilities of the writer, leading to discouragement and disengagement from the critique process. Some members consistently fail to pull their own weight, refusing to read and comment on other people’s work or else to share their own. Others see the group or workshop as a competition, an attitude that some workshop leaders encourage.

Enough of the negative. The workshops at VCFA offer a model for the constructive critique that enables all participants to share their work in a safe, supportive environment and to learn from their own and others’ writing. At each residency, students take part in daily workshops, two hours long, with 10 fellow students and two faculty workshop leaders. At each workshop, two student pieces from 10 to 20 pages long are critiqued, giving each student an hour to hear feedback on the work and to ask questions. The workshop members are at different levels in the program, from nervous first semester students to workshop veterans about to graduate, and the types of works presented range from picture book texts to novels in verse to short stories, from early readers to edgy young adult.

On the first day, faculty advisers set the tone and the ground rules. The student with work to be critiqued reads a paragraph from that work. Then we go around the table, each person stating one thing he or she likes about the work. Faculty advisers take their turn. No one’s comments are more privileged than anyone else’s. After fifteen minutes of what we like about the piece, workshop participants discuss questions, which may be problems with the piece, or confusing parts, or aspects that touch on general writing topics. This part occupies thirty minutes of the discussion. For the final fifteen minutes, the writer, whose work is being discussed, finally has a chance to respond. Until that final fifteen minutes, the writer remains silent—unless there’s a factual question that requires a quick answer.

The silence of the writer for nearly an hour requires a level of trust at the core of the VCFA workshop process—that the discussion of the piece will focus on the piece and not on the writer, that the tone remains positive even though the time devoted to questions is twice as long as that devoted to favorable impressions, that all workshop members take their turn in voicing positives and raising questions, that all comments carry equal weight rather than gravitating toward the observations of the workshop leaders, that we learn not only from our own work but also from examining others’ efforts, that we put forth our best effort but know that any piece can be improved.

All of these principles can be applied to critique groups beyond VCFA. Here are some general tips for constructive criticism:

* Ask the person whose work is under consideration to listen to the initial discussion rather than explain or argue

* Make sure all other members have the chance to speak—do not allow some to dominate and others not to speak at all

* Treat all comments as having equal value, regardless of the writing and publishing experience of the one commenting

* Begin with the positive—what works in this piece?

* Frame what didn’t work for you as a question and relate the questions to larger issues that may apply to several group members’ works

* Give adequate time for the person who wrote the piece to respond at the end

* Make sure all members have the chance to share their work equally as well as respond to others’ work.

Of all my experiences in critique groups, the VCFA workshops have helped me the most. Beyond the specific critique of my own work, they have addressed larger questions with which I struggle—getting readers to connect emotionally with my characters, revealing backstory without halting the action, making the first person narrator’s voice consistent. As often as not, I’ve discovered the answers for my own work while discussing someone else’s story, which is why it’s so important to both participate and to listen.

Lyn Miller-Lachmann is in her second semester in the MFA program in Writing for Children and Young Adults at Vermont College. She is the author of an adult novel, Dirt Cheap (now back in print), and the award-winning YA/adult crossover Gringolandia. She also contributes reviews to the online Albany Times-Union, Readergirlz, and The Pirate Tree, a new blog about social justice and children’s literature. You can read more about Lyn and her work at web.mac.com/lynml. If you have any questions about her post or the MFA program at Vermont College, you can contact her directly at lyml@mac.com.

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Exciting plot… great characters… exotic setting… a good story will invariably have at least one of these things going for it. But a GREAT story will always have heart. For a look at how one writer learned to find heart in her story. Please check back here on Wednesday 6/22, when Pam Watts, a recent graduate of Vermont College of Fine Arts, MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults reveals her journey.

VCFA Blog Initiative: What Happens Next? Inch Forward in the Dark, by Sion Dayson

The TeachingAuthors are proud to be part of the Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA) Summer Blog Initiative. We're especially pleased to be the first blog to feature these inspiring and practical posts by students and graduates of the MFA programs because four of the TeachingAuthors (Jeanne Marie Grunwell Ford, Carmela Martino, Mary Ann Rodman, and me, JoAnn Early Macken) hold MFAs from Vermont College. On Monday, our series began with Jodi Paloni's entry, "The Point of Point of View."  In Wednesday's guest post, "Decide vs. Discover," Cynthia Newberry Martin shared a technique for letting the characters tell you what happens next in your story. Today, Sion Dayson gives us another method for moving forward.

What Happens Next? Inch Forward in the Dark, by Sion Dayson

Working on my first novel, I sometimes felt like I was stumbling through a large, strange house without the benefit of light. Maybe a storm cut the power or faulty wiring flipped the switch. Whatever the reason, I was in the midst of a blackout, trying to draw a blueprint of a place I had never been.

My advisor Ellen Lesser had a simple suggestion for combating the panic of not knowing where I was heading in my writing: inch forward in the dark.

The directive resonated.

I connected it to my idea of the foreign house. Everything was already there to be discovered; I just couldn’t see it yet. So I’d run my hands along the walls, stretch my arms out in front of me, take tiny steps. I inched forward in the dark. I learned there was a chair in the middle of the room, a desk with knick-knacks in the corner. What was this? Perhaps family portraits on the mantle?

After awhile I found a light switch. Suddenly an entire room was visible. It looked different than what I’d pictured, yet it was also so clear. Of course, this is the kitchen, I might say. Utensils on the drying rack, chipped plates, a leaking sink I’d heard when the lights were out--though I’d been unsure of its source.

But the hallway remained dark. The bedroom, the den. So I just kept mapping the house (the story) until every lamp was lit. Warm light seeped from each window. Slowly, I started making myself at home.

Sion Dayson will graduate in July 2011 with an MFA in Fiction Writing from Vermont College of Fine Arts. Her work has appeared in Smokelong Quarterly, a National Book Foundation anthology, and the volume "Strangers in Paris," among other venues. She is currently working on her first novel. If you have any questions about her post or the MFA program at Vermont College, you can contact Sion directly at sdayson@yahoo.com. Feel free to visit her blog paris (im)perfect for information on her writing journey and other adventures in the City of Light.

VCFA Blog Initiative: Decide vs. Discover, by Cynthia Newberry Martin

The TeachingAuthors are proud to be part of the Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA) Summer Blog Initiative. We're especially pleased to be the first blog to feature these inspiring and practical posts by students and graduates of the MFA programs because four of the TeachingAuthors hold MFAs from Vermont College: Jeanne Marie Grunwell Ford, JoAnn Early Macken, Mary Ann Rodman, and me, Carmela Martino. On Monday, Mary Ann kicked off the series with Jodi Paloni's entry, "The Point of Point of View."  In today's guest post, Cynthia Newberry Martin shares a technique for figuring out what happens next in your story. Following the post, I have included a related Writing Workout. Enjoy!

Decide vs. Discover: Let Your Characters Tell You What Happens Next

I used to think I had to know what was going to happen before I could write.  During my first semester at Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA), Diane Lefer, my advisor, wrote to me:

I would suggest thinking less ABOUT your characters and instead just trying to put yourself in their shoes and see where they take you.

I copied this sentence on an index card and taped it above my desk. These twenty-four words worked like scissors, cutting me loose. I thought I had to know. I thought I had to decide, but instead I could discover. I could just place the characters in a scene and see what happened.

I learned to wait.

Granted, it’s a subtle difference: decide versus discover. I mean, we are the writers. But here’s an example: in the novel I’m working on now, there are three trailers off to the side of the road. They appeared because one of my characters needed a place to live. Who was living in the other two? Well, a son appeared; he could have one. So who was living in trailer #3? I didn’t know. I kept writing. I wrote “Who is living in trailer #3?” on a card and taped it next to the other card. Weeks went by. What I discovered by waiting and not deciding was that no one was living in trailer #3.

And, as Robert Frost wrote, that has made all the difference.

Cynthia Newberry Martin lives in Columbus, Georgia, the home of Carson McCullers. Her fiction, essays, and book reviews have appeared, or will appear, in Gargoyle, Contrary, Storyglossia, and Numéro Cinq. She is the Review Editor for Contrary and currently in her third semester at Vermont College of Fine Arts working toward her MFA in Writing. You can find her at Catching Days.

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Thank you, Cynthia, for sharing this approach to plotting. I especially like your advisor's advice to put yourself in your characters' shoes and "see where they take you." One way I've done this is to keep a journal written in first person, from my character's point of view. In a blog post last summer, I talked about the journal I kept while writing Rosa, Sola. Below is a variation of the Writing Workout I included with that post.  

Every writer has a different method for figuring out the next turn in his or her story. Tune in Friday 6/15, when Sion Dayson, another Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA) colleague, will show us another technique for inching forward in the dark. 

Writing Workout
Create a journal where your characters can tell you what happens next.

• I prefer using a paper journal that I write in with a pen. Something about physically pushing the pen across the page allows me to connect with my characters in a different way than typing on a keyboard.
• The journal doesn't have to be expensive. It can be a simple spiral notebook or composition book. (These are usually on sale in August for back-to-school.)
• I also like personalizing the journal's cover. I typically paste a photograph that represents something important to the character, or that is an image of the character herself.
• Once I have my journal, I use it to ask my character questions. I write the question at the top of the page. Some examples: What are your likes/dislikes? What is your biggest problem or fear? What do you REALLY want? How did you feel when . . . .
• My character "responds" to the questions in the journal. (Of course, I am the one writing the response, but I write in first person as though the character is speaking through me.)
• I've used this technique for both main characters and important secondary characters. The process has yielded interesting and unexpected results, often helping me figure out "what happens next."

Happy Writing!
Carmela

The Point of Point of View by Jodi Paloni

Greetings and welcome to the kick off to our VCFA blog initiative. Today's guest blogger is Jodi Paloni, followed by a Writer's Workout by me. Enjoy!

Congregations of characters followed me around to high levels of distraction until I hollered at them: all right already! You all know how it works. But I didn't. In my first semester at Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA), I generated a pile of papers with various characters all telling the same story at the same time. POV were the three most frequently scrawled letters in the marginalia of my pages.

Huh?

It's a simple thing; if you're a beginner, choose a point of view and stick with it. If not, then have a clear intention for shifting it and teach your audience how to read your story.

Of course, it's not really that simple. In fact, just about everything in a story is affected by point of view and point of view affects just about everything in your story.

In the remaining space I have, I will use it to plead.

Get your hands on David Jauss's craft book, Alone With All That Could Happen  and study the essay, "From Long Shots to X-Rays: Distance and Point of View in Fiction." In 33 pages of definitions, descriptions, and examples that cite the best work in the business, youíll receive a semester's worth on the topic. And ironically, just like your characters, the wisdom of Jauss's discourse will not leave you alone.

The take-away is this: point of view is not only a matter of person. It's a matter of the degree of distance created between writers and readers.

Jodi Paloni will complete her MFA in Fiction Writing at Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA) in July 2011. She is currently working on a collection of linked stories. Her book reviews on linked story collections may be read at Contrary Magazine. She blogs at Rigmarole.   If you have questions about this post or the Vermont College MFA program, you may contact Jodi at jpaloni@myfairpoint.net.

Writing Workout

     I can identify with Jodi's POV problems. Sometimes I have a story or scene...and I don't really know whose story it is.  I will re-write the scene (and sometimes, gulp, the entire book) from three different points of view.  I limit myself to three possibilities...the scene as viewed by two different characters (I find first person easier, but it can be done in limited third person as well), and then what I call the "Dragnet POV" ("just the facts, ma'am.").  There are other possibilities--other characters observing, for instance, but I limit myself to three.  I always learn something new about at least one of my characters and who the real main character is.  This is also a fun exercise to use in the classroom.

To use in a classroom:
1. Have the students write down an actual conversation/argument they have had. (The "your-room-is-a-pigsty" argument is a frequent favorite in my classes.) Write it from the student's point of view.

2. Write the same scene again, this time from the parent's POV.

3. Write the incident as if you were presenting this as court testimony...no opinions or emotions allowed.
Just the facts.

Which was easier to write? Which makes the most sense within your story? What did you learn about your characters?

Workout posted by Mary Ann Rodman

There is more than one way to figure out what happens next in your story. Cynthia Newberry Martin, whose MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA) is just a few weeks away from fruition, will share some useful tips here on Wednesday, June 15.  Her guest post will be called "Decide vs Discover." Please stop by and see what she has to say.

Preview of Coming Attractions: VCFA Blog Initiative

The TeachingAuthors are proud to announce that we'll be kicking off a Summer Blog Initiative with students and graduates from the MFA programs at Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA). We're especially pleased to be the first blog to feature these inspiring and practical posts because four of the TeachingAuthors graduated from Vermont College: Jeanne Marie Grunwell Ford, JoAnn Early Macken, Mary Ann Rodman, and me, Carmela Martino.

 We'll feature the first guest post on Monday, June 13, when Jodi Paloni discusses "The Point of Point of View." Please stop by and read what she has to say.  

Happy Writing!
Carmela