See Where the Heat Is
“You should request Sarah to be your mentor next semester, she’s fabulous!” said Susan Conley, the visiting workshop leader for my fourth residency in Dingle, Ireland, which ended just over one week ago.
My upcoming semester is a biggie—I’ll complete my thesis, which I hope becomes a published book of short stories.
I followed Susan's recommendation and emailed Sarah and asked if she’d like to work with me. But the next day, even before Sarah responded, I said to Susan, “I don’t want to put you on the spot, but I was thinking: would you like to work with me?”
The typical residencies for my Stonecoast creative writing program in Maine are small enough to know who everyone is yet large enough not to be able to befriend everyone. My recent residency in Ireland included 10 students and two faculty members, a size that allowed me to become besties with everyone. On the second day of residency, I realized something: Susan was amazing.
Susan was also on board with my idea for her to mentor me. “I was thinking the same thing last night!” she said.
With Susan’s help, over the next four months I will revise my short stories into about 125 pages of beautiful prose. Well, the 125 pages will be all me and Susan, while the beautiful prose will require the additional help of a leprechaun. During this time, I plan to tell my friends to temporarily fuck off so I can write. Except on NFL Sundays. Priorities.
During our intimate week at Bambury’s Guesthouse on the Dingle Peninsula, I learned more about writing than if I'd read James Joyce's novels ten times each. One cool thing resulting from writing and reading is that, sometimes, you learn about yourself and the human condition, and the lessons apply elsewhere. Here are some of those writing lessons I learned during my residency in Ireland (these are not direct quotes). Consider whether you can use these lessons in your own life by substituting “language,” “metaphor,” etc. with “relationship,” “prostitution ring,” or whatever you want:
Susan says:
Kevin Barry, our guest presenter who has won the International Dublin Literary Award, says:
Ted Deppe, one of Stonecoast’s resident poets, says metaphors:
Lastly, Susan says fiction and memoir share many of the same features and the two genres can be blended. For example, a memoirist may use fiction to protect his or her loved ones. Ted agrees and says that poets make things up to tell the truth. Both Ted and Susan gave us a few minutes to complete different writing prompts during our workshops. Below is my favorite writing in response to one such prompt. Is this memoir or fiction? A writer never tells...unless you treat him to Irish whiskey.
Her eyes lock with mine. “Want to climb?” she says.
Of course. I tie my figure eight knot as she secures the other end of my rope to her carabiner. How long has she climbed? A few years. What does she do? Raises money for good causes, only the things she wants to and nothing else, and smiles. Why does she smile so much? She both gets joy from and gives joy to others.
Do I want to start climbing? she asks.
Yes, but first I must note that my previous observation that it can take just three minutes to think I’m in love has now been reduced by one minute.
Related Stories
See the video I made after my first residency, and read about the lessons I learned from my second and third residencies.
My Next Big Thing
The Story Collider plans to turn the story I told in September into a podcast. Check back here in the coming weeks to see when the podcast airs.
Some Recent Social Media Posts
My upcoming semester is a biggie—I’ll complete my thesis, which I hope becomes a published book of short stories.
I followed Susan's recommendation and emailed Sarah and asked if she’d like to work with me. But the next day, even before Sarah responded, I said to Susan, “I don’t want to put you on the spot, but I was thinking: would you like to work with me?”
The typical residencies for my Stonecoast creative writing program in Maine are small enough to know who everyone is yet large enough not to be able to befriend everyone. My recent residency in Ireland included 10 students and two faculty members, a size that allowed me to become besties with everyone. On the second day of residency, I realized something: Susan was amazing.
Susan was also on board with my idea for her to mentor me. “I was thinking the same thing last night!” she said.
With Susan’s help, over the next four months I will revise my short stories into about 125 pages of beautiful prose. Well, the 125 pages will be all me and Susan, while the beautiful prose will require the additional help of a leprechaun. During this time, I plan to tell my friends to temporarily fuck off so I can write. Except on NFL Sundays. Priorities.
During our intimate week at Bambury’s Guesthouse on the Dingle Peninsula, I learned more about writing than if I'd read James Joyce's novels ten times each. One cool thing resulting from writing and reading is that, sometimes, you learn about yourself and the human condition, and the lessons apply elsewhere. Here are some of those writing lessons I learned during my residency in Ireland (these are not direct quotes). Consider whether you can use these lessons in your own life by substituting “language,” “metaphor,” etc. with “relationship,” “prostitution ring,” or whatever you want:
Susan says:
- Find where the heat is. Sometimes, the heat can be on the language, but it’s often on the tension.
- Tension should look like an EKG report, full of little spikes overlapping the story arc.
- The first sentence of a story is an embrace. It should have an electrical current that shocks and illuminates.
Kevin Barry, our guest presenter who has won the International Dublin Literary Award, says:
- It takes 10-11 years for the emotional charge to come out of an experience. That’s the length of time to feel properly embittered.
- Everything you start, even if it sucks, finish it. Writing a good story only comes after you write bad ones.
- The bits of your writing that make you recoil, feel embarrassed, or feel vulnerable, those are the bits to keep. Dig deeper.
Ted Deppe, one of Stonecoast’s resident poets, says metaphors:
- Align with the way the brain works. Writers use them to convey information and give the reader pleasure.
- Create a veil; they create distance before bringing the reader back through.
- Show readers how the writer sees the world. They’re not just to make the words pretty.
Lastly, Susan says fiction and memoir share many of the same features and the two genres can be blended. For example, a memoirist may use fiction to protect his or her loved ones. Ted agrees and says that poets make things up to tell the truth. Both Ted and Susan gave us a few minutes to complete different writing prompts during our workshops. Below is my favorite writing in response to one such prompt. Is this memoir or fiction? A writer never tells...unless you treat him to Irish whiskey.
Her eyes lock with mine. “Want to climb?” she says.
Of course. I tie my figure eight knot as she secures the other end of my rope to her carabiner. How long has she climbed? A few years. What does she do? Raises money for good causes, only the things she wants to and nothing else, and smiles. Why does she smile so much? She both gets joy from and gives joy to others.
Do I want to start climbing? she asks.
Yes, but first I must note that my previous observation that it can take just three minutes to think I’m in love has now been reduced by one minute.
 |
| Me and my fellow Stonecoast in Ireland students during the summer 2017 residency in Dingle. |
See the video I made after my first residency, and read about the lessons I learned from my second and third residencies.
My Next Big Thing
The Story Collider plans to turn the story I told in September into a podcast. Check back here in the coming weeks to see when the podcast airs.
Some Recent Social Media Posts
- I pack light. Too light?
- My goal to taste different beers from around the world has led me to meet awesome people and see awesome places.
- I’m available to house-sit. If you live on an island in the Atlantic, call me.