Subscriber Successes

Congratulations to newsletter subscribers Adrienne Ross and Carol Bowman on their recent successes.

Adrienne’s essay, “Startling Epiphany,” took third place among prose submissions in this year’s Portia Steele Awards. And Carol’s story, “Repairing a Broken Doll,” appears in the latest Workers Write! anthology, Tales from the Couch.

As always, please remember that I LOVE hearing about successes that come your way via a discovery in our newsletter or on this blog. Please, please, share your good news, and let me brag about you!

Friday Find: Words of Love

Today is my nephew’s third birthday. Like his older sister, little S. gives me endless joy, love…and ideas to think and write about.

As fortunate as he is, my nephew hasn’t had the easiest start. Perhaps his greatest challenge is childhood apraxia of speech (CAS). If you’re not familiar with this motor speech disorder, you’re not alone: I hadn’t heard of it before S. was diagnosed.

In the words of the American Speech-Language-Hearing Association, “Children with CAS have problems saying sounds, syllables, and words. This is not because of muscle weakness or paralysis. The brain has problems planning to move the body parts (e.g., lips, jaw, tongue) needed for speech. The child knows what he or she wants to say, but his/her brain has difficulty coordinating the muscle movements necessary to say those words.” (You can also learn a lot about CAS from the Childhood Apraxia of Speech Association. And I’ll refer you to this post on my sister’s blog for additional personal insights.)

His language obstacles notwithstanding, my nephew is already an avid bibliophile (he’s pictured here on a recent library visit–photo credit courtesy of his mom). Children with apraxia of speech commonly encounter difficulties in learning to read, spell, and write as well as in learning to speak. So his road to full immersion in the world of words that means so much to me is likely to be significantly slower than I’d like it to be. At the same time, however, in these three years he has brought such added richness and joy to my life, and to the lives of all his family members (and, I daresay, to his dedicated therapists, who seem to find him as sweet and beguiling as we do!), that, despite all my degrees and publications, I can’t begin to describe in words myself.

Happy Birthday to my precious nephew, with my love always.

Reflections on the Current Creative Writing Consulting Controversy

When I drafted yesterday’s post mentioning Abramson Leslie Consulting, the new firm offering services for prospective graduate students in creative writing, I had no idea about the storm that was brewing in the blogosphere around it. As I suggested in the post, there’s been controversy concerning similar ventures for prospective undergraduates. But I have to admit that the speed and intensity of the opposition to Abramson Leslie has surprised me. So I’ve been reading the objections as I’ve discovered them (for just a sampling, see the comment threads here and here). And I’ve been trying to formulate my own response, wondering why I did not react to the discovery of the new enterprise with the same vehement dismay so many others have.

My first reflection: Maybe I’m simply jaded. After all, I attended a high school where it was common for students to “train” locally with a private SAT “coach.” I worked with one. Would I have attained Harvard admission and National Merit Scholarship eligibility “on my own,” without the structure of my tutor’s assignments and the time I spent reviewing sample tests with her? Possibly. Was I too intimidated/crazed by the insane level of competition within the top stratum of my high school class to risk a bad test performance? Yes. Does the fact that I also had the transcript (four years of challenging coursework and high grades), recommendations, mini-essays and personal statement, and everything else that was required to confirm the test results and affirm the appropriateness of both the Harvard admission letter and the ultimate National Merit Scholarship award I received mean anything? I think so. But some might have doubts.

Then I thought: Maybe I’m simply less focused on the portfolio review portion of the services. That, after all, seems to be the aspect driving much of the online upset. Maybe my experiences are leading me to consider instead the broader array of services the new firm says it’s offering, like helping prospective applicants draw up lists of potential schools. Maybe I’m thinking of all the time I’ve spent responding to strangers’ e-queries concerning low-residency MFA applications/admissions. Brief exchanges I’ve sustained gratis, but if people really wanted my personalized response to their questions and my extended attention, I did charge for the service back when I was freelancing and adjuncting full-time. I can envision doing so again if appropriate.

And that is at least in part because it is established professional practice to do so. I do not see a difference, for example, between the consulting services for MFA applicants that are offered by respected organizations like Grub Street or the Sackett Street Writers’ Workshop and those from Abramson Leslie. Except, of course, for the fact that Seth Abramson (whom I do not know personally although we are both contributors to the second edition of Tom Kealey’s Creative Writing MFA Handbook) sure seems to have made a lot of enemies. And the curious situation that no one seems to be complaining as strenously about other organizations’ apparently higher fees.

Then, when I read protests about the products of consultations presenting inflated impressions of applicants’ inherent abilities, I recalled that my own MFA application submission was workshopped multiple times (and, horrors, even reviewed by a paid Grub Street consultant). Not, it’s true, because I wanted to polish it for the MFA application, but because I was seeking to perfect that first novel chapter for an agent/publication. So how representative of an applicant’s (my) inherent ability was that writing sample? How representative is any sample that’s been critiqued (and hopefully, improved) thanks to the paid work of trained, professional others?

There’s another point the anti-Abramson Leslie voices are making that I keep thinking about. It goes something like this: Abramson Leslie is “unethical” and “disgusting” (to cite two adjectives I’ve seen) because it’s not only morally wrong to give people who can and are willing to pay the fees a presumed advantage in this process. The endeavor will also lead to a sort of corruption of the (presumably, heretofore unadulterated) arena of artistic talent that is a graduate writing workshop and program, not merely because candidates will henceforth be admitted on the basis of work that isn’t really representative of their abilities, but also due to the tragic consequence that their peers will have to suffer through reading utterly abysmal original work when they could have enjoyed the gorgeous prose or poetry of someone more innately gifted—who didn’t (or couldn’t) pay for an application portfolio review.

Well, I hate to break this news, but in my experience, at least, the system just isn’t that pure. There is plenty of abysmal work being circulated in graduate writing workshops. And, again, for quite some time now, people have paid good money for other consultants, conferences, and workshops to improve their work (whether with the express intent of using the advice for graduate writing program applications or not).

I think, too, that those who are arguing against the portfolio review may not see it the way that I do. Based on my reading of the Abramsom Leslie Web site, for instance, I understand the consultants to be individuals who, as workshop teachers and other editorial consultants have done before them and will continue to do whether or not the new venture succeeds, will offer critiques and suggestions, not rewrites. If the client can’t apply the suggestions or think through questions the critiques raise, s/he actually isn’t going to be able to improve his or her work very much. And if s/he can, in fact, apply sound suggestions and engage with the critiques, maybe s/he is even more of an ideal candidate than one might have thought before the consultation began.

Finally, and with a bit of faith in the process, I am hypothesizing that someone who is truly unable to write poetry or prose at a level appropriate for graduate school may similarly lack a solid undergraduate transcript. Or strong recommendations. Or a satisfactory critical essay/GRE scores/statement(s) about herself or the books that have meant the most to her. I expect that someone applying to a graduate program in creative writing will present multiple qualifications in the application package. I am hoping that would-be graduate students in creative writing don’t waste the time they spend assembling these packages. Because if the writing sample truly were the only thing that mattered, there’d be no need for full applications in the first place.

But I hear the critics. Some of them I know, from other online discussions, at least. I respect them. I am still thinking about what they have to say. What say you?

The Wednesday Web Browser: On Writers Past, Present, and Future

This week’s New Yorker includes a fascinating article on the famed Little House series and its authorship. The article appears to be available only to subscribers or in print, but if you’re free at 3 p.m. (ET) today, writer Judith Thurman will be answering questions in a live chat. As of yesterday, the site was accepting questions for Thurman ahead of time.
==========
We might be forgiven for being a little envious of this guy.
==========
You’ve probably heard about consultants who help students apply to college (which can be a controversial topic, as the response to a recent NYT article recently proved). Now, there’s Abramson Leslie Consulting, offering “services for applicants to graduate creative writing programs,” provided by recent graduates of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop (services are currently limited to applicants in fiction and poetry).

Guest Post: Chloé Yelena Miller on Preparing for a Writing Retreat

Please extend a warm welcome to our guest blogger, Chloé Yelena Miller, whom you may remember from a previous post. Today, Chloé shares some thoughts as she approaches a writing retreat. She’ll be back with another post once she has returned home. Chloé has poems published or forthcoming in Alimentum Journal, Lumina, Privatephotoreview.com, South Mountain Poets Chapbook, Sink Review and The Cortland Review. Her manuscript, Permission to Stay, was a finalist for the Philip Levine Prize in Poetry. She teaches writing online for Fairleigh Dickinson University and edits Portal Del Sol. She received an M.F.A. from Sarah Lawrence College and a B.A. from Smith College.

A Women’s Writing Retreat: One Woman’s Treat and Necessity
Chloé Yelena Miller

I have never seen a desert, and I am obsessed with Georgia O’Keeffe. The Writers’ Retreat, hosted by A Room of her Own, adds writing to the mix of a desert landscape and O’Keeffe’s home. What could be better?

I have been in love with O’Keeffe’s work since I first saw an exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art in New York as a child. The landscape that helped to form her art was so different from my own setting: urban New Jersey. I remember sitting cross-legged on the carpet in my parents’ living room looking through her oversized book One Hundred Flowers. This upcoming retreat feels like a homecoming as visual art brings me to a writing space.

A black and white portrait of Georgia O’Keeffe has been pinned over my desk since high school. It has traveled with me from New Jersey to Massachusetts to Italy to New York and finally to Michigan. This year’s retreat’s theme is “My Country is the Whole World” (Virginia Woolf.) Perfect.

We all need more time and space to write. While I am working part time and have been dedicating much of my time to my writing this last year, being surrounded by other writers and attending classes (far from laundry, bills to pay, and other time-
consuming tasks) can only spur my writing, editing of past work, and contemplation of ideas. I truly can’t wait. (On the other hand, there is a pile of procrastination that must get done before I can leave.)

I enjoy the company of forward-thinking, creative women. There are always potential risks to gathering folks around one aspect of themselves, but since we will have two – writing and our gender – in common, we shouldn’t have any problems. I imagine this will be similar to my experience at Smith College. I chose Smith College not because it was an all-women’s school, but because of the type of motivated students it attracted. There is indeed something special about being surrounded by women.

I look forward to attending classes, writing and hopefully talking at length to the other writers. I will be in a workshop led by Laura Fraser, whose book An Italian Affair I recently gobbled up in three evenings. From the memoir, I think she is a woman after my own heart. I have been doing some freelance writing and hope to improve my hand at not only being honest, but including facts in my writing (a puddle-jump from my poetry.) I promise you the same in a blog post when I return.

I hope to return rejuvenated and with a long list of books to read, craft challenges, ideas for future pieces and if I’m lucky, the start to a few new pieces.

Aside from small festivals and short workshops, I haven’t returned to the humble state of student for some time. As a writing teacher, I know how important this is. I was a poetry writing graduate student at Sarah Lawrence College and attended the Western Michigan State University’s program in Prague (where I met our lovely, creative and energized Erika) and was a resident at the Vermont Studio Center. I learned something new in each program.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, as perhaps it might keep me honest), I will be finishing teaching an online course during the retreat. I hope I will have some time every day to log into the class and grade papers as they come in. I’m a wee bit nervous about combining the two activities and doing both well simultaneously. I will also admit that while I can’t wait to see the desert, I am not someone who loves the heat. I will report back about how hot “dry heat” really is.

Writing students must expect as much from the program itself as from the other students. We all have a lot to do to prepare. I’ve been reading works by the authors who will be there, listening to interviews online, and tweaking my own writing for workshops. I’m ready.