Gossip

I guess this is why we like stories.

And it strikes me that there are a number of implications there for the art of characterization.

Creative Writing Literacy: "Final" draft

Final in the sense that it was finally rejected from College English. Thinking of tweaking it for the *Writer's Chronicle* or maybe for *TEXT* or something. But meanwhile, it's right here if you want to read it. Complete with a new section on how the Writer's Chronicle isn't publishing as much as it could on pedagogical issues.

EDIT: its a kinda big file and may take a minute to load.

Shit, while I'm at it, here's the paper I wrote for my Rhetoric class semester, as if it were the first chapter of a text book on CW.

Kearns: Voice of Authority

Rosalie Morales Kearns. Voice of Authority: Theorizing Creative Writing Pedagogy. CCC 60:4 / june 2009

Excellent critique of the "gag rule" which requires students to remain silent while others critique their work:

The gag rule not only silences the author being workshopped, but it also silences any students who are reluctant to participate in what may feel like a bullying session of a gagged target. When I started my MFA and first encoun- tered the gag rule, it struck me as a distinctly raced practice—specifically, a Euro-American practice. The expectations about spoken interaction that I have internalized as a woman of Puerto Rican descent include the understanding that staying silent or imposing silence is unacceptably rude. A discussion in which one of the parties must be silent violates all expectations of a healthy human interaction. When I saw how comfortably my fellow MFA students acquiesced to the gag rule, I felt that I was in a profoundly foreign place.//

Ironically, it has been my experience that when professors relaxed the gag rule in graduate-level workshops, the change has been negligible. Authors rarely entered the discussion even when they were allowed to. Perhaps gradu- ate students have internalized the notion that arguing or defending oneself may be seen as whining. We feel pressure to “take it on the chin”; all this fault finding is good for us, or else why would it be the predominant creative writing model in the country? (794-750)

On normativity and exclusion in the workshop:

The MFA curriculum assumes the existence of a particular type of student, a student firmly located in the Euro-American cultural tradition, sure of his right to claim the identity of Writer with a capital W. As mentioned earlier, the fault- finding, gagged-author workshop model serves to marginalize those uncomfort-//able with its adversarial, authoritarian practices. In addition, as a result of the normativity of the MFA curriculum and the larger literary discourse of which it is a part, there are many ways for students to be marginalized in relation to this “ideal” student: if our work alludes to authors and cultural practices about which he knows nothing; if we use narrative devices he dislikes or has never even seen; if we ignore his particular standards of coherence and intelligibility; if we write about subjects he considers unimportant; if we do not valorize a lone individual; if we write about topics in a way that seems “ideological” to him because he holds different values. As a result of this marginalization we are discouraged from seeing ourselves as Writers. (800-801)

Her notes toward an alternative:

As in the classes I taught, the author introduces the story by saying as much as she wants to about the process of writing it, where she got her ideas, what revisions she is already thinking of, on what topics she would particularly like feedback, or anything else she wants to bring up. The author then facilitates the discussion, calls on students and professor, asks questions for clarification, and so on…In contrast to the seek-and-destroy paradigm of the gagged-author, fault-finding workshop, the paradigm for this egalitarian ver- sion of workshop is a conversation among equals, in which everyone (professor included) is engaged in a shared learning experience.

Comment on the work will be made in the context of an ongoing discussion about all of our various assumptions about what makes stories work. Since we will have been doing close reading of a wide range of published works (not just canonical, not just realistic, etc.), we will have a corpus of works on which to draw that utilize a range of techniques and present us with successful “viola- tions” of what we may have thought of as “rules.” We will let go of the idea that any one individual knows what good art is and has the right to impose that on others. There will be a frank discussion of classroom dynamics, and everyone will be responsible for making sure that everyone has something to say.(804)

Brilliant! Many thanks Rosalie.

Knowing how to hunt

...it must be noted that the poet is never inspired, if by that one means that inspiration is a function of humor, of temperature, of political circumstances, of subjective chance, or of the subconscious. The poet is never inspired, because he is the master of that which appears to others as inspiration. He does not wait for inspiration to fall out of the heavens on him like roast ortolans. He knows how to hunt, and lives by the incontestable proverb, "God helps them that help themselves." He is never inspired because he is unceasingly inspired, because the powers of poetry are always at his disposition, subjected to his will, submissive to his own activity...

Raymond Queneau from his Le Voyage en Grece. Quoted in Oulipo: A Primer of Potential Literature. Ed Warren F. Motte Jr. Normal, IL: Dalkey Archive Press, 1986. Page 43.

Nicely put. And almost exactly contrary to most of what we hear about writing and how it comes about. Seems to me that if we want to argue in favor of teaching creative writing, we might begin with beliefs about the creative process similar to Queneau's. We ought not to be "nurturing" our students, but teaching them how to hunt.

First Article Submitted

Well, I've sent my first essay to College English. Twice now, actually. The first time, the editor asked me to revise the intro before he sent it on to his readers. And he was right. It needed work. Below is the intro as it reads now. Wish me luck, internet. :)

Creative Writing Literacy:
 Social Boundaries of an Academic Discipline

Many scholars have observed that the discipline of creative writing has yet to make many of the advances that its counterpart—the discipline of rhetoric and composition—has made over the past few decades. While creative writing, by and large, continues to treat writing as a product, particularly the product of “talent” or “genius” rather than historical contingencies, rhetoric and composition has learned first to treat writing as a process rather than a product and subsequently to situate this process in its social and historical contexts. A number of scholars have worked to bring these insights to creative writing (see for example: Bizarro, Haake, Bishop and Ostrom, Leahy); their work thus far has focused mostly on applying the framework of “process theory” to creative writing pedagogy. A few voices, however, have called for work that brings creative writing fully up-to-date with composition. For example, Peter Vandenberg predicts a future for creative writing theory that encompasses “Postprocess theory.” This theory, says Vandenberg, would study creative writing “as a function of the places where it is learned as well as where it is deployed” (108). Similarly, Tim Mayers, in a recent issue of College English, envisions a future for the discipline in which “practical knowledge of (and facility with) the composition of fiction, poetry, and other so-called creative genres” will be incorporated into “a more general intellectual framework concerning literacy itself” (225).

In the present essay, I want to take these calls seriously by treating creative writing as a kind of literacy, a social practice that involves reading and writing. The situation I’m most concerned with here is creative writing as it is practiced and theorized in the American university. Many scholars have noted the growing influence of academic creative writing over American letters. Mark McGurl comments wryly on this phenomenon in his study of the influence of the academy on American postwar fiction when he observes that “colleges and universities are now...where most “serious writers” (of which there is now an oversupply)...are trained” (x). As McGurl and others have discovered, contemporary academic creative writing is more or less synonymous with the Associated Writing Programs (AWP) and its masters in fine arts (MFA) issuing affiliates (The Program Era 25). Since it was founded in 1967 by 15 writers representing 12 programs, the AWP has grown exponentially to a total of 822 degree-conferring creative writing programs, 500 colleges and universities participating as institutional members, and thousands of individual members in 2009 (Fenza). The growth and expanding influence of academic creative writing coupled with the lack of hard academic work in the discipline has led to a situation in which popular practices have become codified in AWP policy without the benefit of rigorous scrutiny by academics.

Without the input of “postprocess” theory or the ability to place classroom and institutional practices in the “framework” of “literacy itself,” AWP programs continue to conduct the teaching of creative writing as if they existed in an ahistorical void where the social realities of race, class, and gender have no say. Only a serious study of the social realities surrounding academic creative writing can provide the perspective necessary to critique and correct whatever problems there may be in common practices and/or AWP policy. Though it is true that some scholars remain optimistic about the social consequences of academic creative writing (see, for example, McGurl on the development of “High Cultural Pluralism,” and Mary Ann Cain on the “counterhegemonic potential” of creative writing as a discipline), it remains the case that the AWP and its affiliates enjoy a position of unchallenged authority over the education of literary writers in the United States, and so it seems to me that only good can result from asking a few simple questions about the literacy practices of these programs.

In the pages that follow, I treat creative writing in the academy as a situated practice and analyze that practice through the lens of literacy studies. I find that factors like race and class are strong determiners of success for academic creative writers. Further, such factors are more often than not the source of labels like “talent,” which are applied to successful creative writers in the academy. In other words, the discipline of creative writing in the US tends to select students based on their familiarity with white, middle- and upper-class literacy practices, and then assigns labels like “creative,” “talented,” or even “genius” to those writers who adhere most closely to these practices. I find that this situation is perpetuated by the relationship that the AWP and its affiliated programs maintain with the American book market. An analysis of this relationship reveals that the common practice in AWP programs of insisting on “literary” work from students, as well as the restrictions the market places upon the term “literary,” not only limit student work but also effectively determine who is allowed to become a “creative writer” in the United States.

NAAL stats

Sheida White, Mark Kutner, Elizabeth Greenberg, Ying Jin, Bridget Boyle, Yung-chen Hsu, Eric Dunleavy. *Literacy in Everyday Life: Results From the 2003 National Assessment of Adult Literacy * Washington D.C.: National Center for Education Statistics, Institute of Education Sciences, 2007.

I want to look at this data because I think it shines a light on American literacy in a way theory cannot and because it helps me think about "literature" in terms of its social and political context.

The National Assessment of Adult Literacy (NAAL) tested adult Americans on a specific set of literacy skills, which they saw as essential to participation in the economic and political life of the nation. They divided these skills into three categories: prose, document, and qualitative literacies. Prose literacy will be the only category of concern here, since it is the one that most directly relates to the reading of creative work.

NAAL defines prose literacy as follows:

Prose literacy. The knowledge and skills needed to search, comprehend, and use information from continuous texts. Prose examples include editorials, news stories, brochures, and instructional materials. (iii)

Adults who are tested for this type of literacy achieve a sore between 0 and 500. NAAL divided these scores into four "levels" of prose literacy: proficient, intermediate, basic, and below basic. Adults unable to respond to the questions were not scored and were considered "non-literate in English." I've excluded "below basic" since this group is essentially unable to read and understand novels, poetry, or drama in English.

Here is how NAAL defined each level, by skill set and by score:

Basic: reading and understanding information in short, commonplace prose texts. Score: 210–264

Intermediate: reading and understanding moderately dense, less commonplace prose texts as well as summarizing, making simple inferences, determining cause and effect, and recognizing the author’s purpose. Score: 265–339

Proficient: reading lengthy,complex,abstract prosetexts as well as synthesizing information and making complex inferences. Score: 340–500 (4)

To give a more precise understanding of what skills were involved at each level, NAAL published a gradation of types of skills, each assigned a score according to its difficulty. For example, whereas below basic readers could not explain the meaning of a metaphor in a narrative, comprehension of metaphor increased in each literacy level:

241 [basic] Explain the meaning of a metaphor used in a narrative.
304 [intermediate] Infer the meaning of a metaphor in a poem.
345 [proficient] Compare and contrast the meaning of metaphors in a poem. (5)

I don't think I'm alone in saying that I consider the ability to compare and contrast metaphors in a poem to be a basic, essential requirement for reading and understanding literary poetry, and that persons not possessed of this skill are not likely to possess the necessary skills to read literary prose either. Consider, for example, this passage from *Ulysses*, which Wayne Booth makes us of in his study *The Company We Keep: An Ethics of Fiction*:

Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies. Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. How? By knocking his sconce against them, sure. Go easy. Bald he was and a millionaire, *maestro di color che sanno*. Limit of the diaphane in. Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through it it is a gate, if not a door. Shut your eyes and see.

Stephen closed his eyes to hear his boots crush crackling wrack and shells. You are walking through it howsomever. I am, a stride at a time. A very short space of time through very short times of space. Five, six: the *nacheinander*. Exactly: and that is the ineluctable modality of the audible. Open your eyes. No. Jesus! If I fell over a cliff that beetles o'er his base, fell through the *nebeneinander* ineluctably! I am getting on nicely in the dark. My ash sword hangs at my side. Tap with it: they do. My two feet in his boots are at the ends of his legs, *nebeneinander*. Sounds solid: made by the mallet of *Los Demiurgos*. Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand? Crush, crack, crick, crick. Wild sea money. Dominie Deasy kens them a'.

*Won't you come to Sandymount,
Madeline the mare?*

Rhythm begins, you see. I hear. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs marching. No, agallop: *deline the mare*.

Open your eyes now. I will. One moment. Has all vanished since? If I open and am for ever in the black adiaphane. *Basta*! I will see if I can see.

See now. There all the time without you: and ever shall be, world without end. (273-4 in Booth)

Booth recommends we read the passage aloud. He's right. It's lovely to hear. High modernism at its finest. And it is, not, I think, a stretch to say that the skill set require to read such a passage far exceeds the ability to compare and contrast metaphors. One must be much more than proficient to get anything from the passage at all, except, perhaps, a feel for the music. Here's Booth explaining his reaction to the text:

When as a nineteen-year-old I first read the passage, in my often baffled but exhilarated plunge through the novel, I felt completely out-classed. I had never read Aristotle or Aquinas or any other philosopher bald or hairy who grappled with this problem in this way; all I knew was that Stephen is troubled by some mysterious phrase, one that was meaningless to me...And I can remember looking up some of the strange words, and mumbling that mouth-filler: "ineluctable modality of the visible."...One must, in short, become at least a bit philosophical to be able to enjoy the passage at all...//

The possible effects are of course not confined to philosophical inquiry. I am asked, secondly, to mime "being learned."...Even if I can't catch many of the allusions, I will suspect that many allusions are being made—at least that phrase in Italian, if that *is* Italian, is an allusion to *something*, as is the "*Basta!*" Who *is* this "he," this "bald millionaire"? Who or waht is "Madeline the mare?"...

If I happen to recognize the quotation from *King Lear*, I will feel that I am a *little bit* learned, but I'll suspect that there are more allusions that I miss. And what does *nacheinander* mean? I may look it // up, if I happen to recognize that it's German. Or I may simply aspire to become the sort of person, someday, who knows languages and doesn't *have* to look it up. (274-6)

Booth's point it to explain how good literature can inspire a young man to become a better, more intellectual man—philosophical and learned. But we have to remember that he is already a young man capable of reacting so positively due to his early literacy experiences, shaped by the value placed on reading and writing in his family of origin, his early schooling, his experience in the Morman Church, etc. When nineteen-year-old Wayne Booth first read Joyce, he was already functioning at the high-end of proficiency, and Joyce came along to show him that reading could be so much more, that he as a reader could be so much more.

Consider the same passage as read by someone at a low-proficient or intermediate level. There is every chance that he or she will find the passage meaningless. Perhaps the lower-level reader will recognize in it some literary value. If so, he or she may feel intimidated, or challenged, or humiliated, or disenfranchised, or whathaveyou. But he or she will *not* likely feel the same kind or degree of inspiration as Booth. He was at the apex of measurable literacy skill, ready to take wing; average readers, at best, simply recognize a gulf of skill and learning that stands between them and understanding the text.

This raises a line of ethical consideration not taken up by Booth in his reflection on Joyce: What is the meaning of such a text to the general public? How many people are able to react like Booth? Who are they? How do they get to be at their level of skill? How is this skill distributed among readers? By who and according to what criteria? Yes, *Ulysses* is lovely, but for whom?

Here are the NAAL stats on levels of prose literacy across the entire US population:

Below Basic:
1992---14%
2003---14%

Basic:
1992---28%
2003---29%

Intermediate
1992---43%
2003---44%

Proficient
1992---15%
2003---13% (13)

So if 15-13 percent of the US populace is proficient, and a smaller portion of that group is "high proficient," meaning capable of getting something from artists like Joyce or Pynchon or whoever else you want to name that writes difficult prose, then we have to conclude that *Ulysses* is lovely for only a few.

Three hundred million Americans (give or take). Maybe five percent at what I'm calling "high" literacy (which, admittedly, was not a category measured by the NAAL, so I'm guessing here, and I think I'm being generous with that 5%). That still makes 15,000,000 potential Joyce readers in the US. Not a bad audience for him at all, really. Even at 1% (more likely) there's still 3M potential fans for his type of thing. But still, a vast majority excluded. 297,000,000 Americans Joyce leaves out of his conversation.

In her new collection of essays, Elif Batuman asks: "What did craft ever try to say about the world, the human condition, or the search for meaning?" I want to answer that craft can't help but say something about the world, the human condition, the search for meaning. At all times, and in every way, craft is inextricably linked to such questions. Craft choices are choices from among social conventions, which themselves stand in relation to questions of equity, political questions concerning the relationship of the author to the reading (and non-reading) public. When an author makes craft choices, that author sets the terms of access to their text, including some readers, excluding some others. It is not possible to write an all-inclusive text, but this does not mean that as authors and as educators of future authors we should pretend that craft exists in a vacuum, apart from issues of race and class.

Here are the NAAL figures for average prose literacy score by race:

White
1992---287
2003---288

Asian/Pacific Islander
1992---255
2003---271

American Indian/Alaska Native
1992---254
2003---264

Black
1992---237
2003---243

Hispanic
1992---234
2003---216 (15)

The report acknowledges that "Hispanic" is an overly broad term, and then further breaks down that category by nation of origin, or ancestor's origin. Puerto Ricans were the only group that gained over the period.

Notice that no group is proficient on average (cut off for that level is 340) but, until 2003, only whites were intermediate on average (cut off 265). In 2003, whites were joined by the Asian/Pacific Islander grouping. All other groups are of basic proficiency on average. However, we should also note some significant gains in black and native populations. Inequality remains, and change is happening.

NAAL stats on the percent of adults at proficient or intermediate levels by race:

White
proficient
1992---18%
2003---17%
intermediate
1992---48%
2003---51%

Asian/Pacific Islander
proficient
1992---9%
2003---12%
intermediate
1992---36%
2003---42%

American Indian/Alaskan Native
proficient
1992---5%
2003---10%
intermediate
1992---35%
2003---41%

Hispanic
proficient
1992---5%
2003---4%
intermediate
1992---28%
2003---23%

Black
proficient
1992---2%
2003---2%
intermediate
1992---27%
2003---31% (16)

So, in 2003, when 68% of white adults were at intermediate or above, only 43% of black adults performed at the same level, and only 27% of Hispanics. Again, Puerto Ricans were the only group who gained over the period, with 44% of adults at intermediate or above in 2003.

An author who makes a choice to write complicated, beautiful, demanding prose, is an author who consents to exclude most Americans, including a disproportionate number of non-whites.

And, of course, money is a factor, too:

NAAL stats on average prose score by annual household income

<$10,000---229
$10,000-$14,999---237
$15,000-$19,999---244
$20,000-$29,999---257
$30,000-$39,999---268
$40,000-$59,999---282
$60,000-$99,999---303
$100,000 and up---316 (31)

That, I think, is a very impressive finding. Every increase in income bracket is an increase in prose literacy score.

Authors who aspire to write like Joyce also do so at the cost of excluding minorities and the poor.

The biggest objection I can think of to my reading of these stats is this: why should it be the author's job to set these things straight? Society is unfair, unequal; this is a question of social reform, not artistic integrity. If we were to take me seriously and attempt to write as inclusively as possible, it would mean the death of high literature in English and an impoverishment of our literary culture. Instead of asking authors to compromise their art, why not insist that society promote more minorities and more of the poor to "high proficient" literacy levels? Why not ask authors to help in this effort. In fact, Authors like Joyce, it could be argued, are the best advocates for the highest levels of literacy, since they show us what beauty can be achieved at those levels.

A good objection (if I do say so myself). And I can't disagree with it. Of course we should promote literacy more equitably. Of course we should not do anything to impoverish literary culture. We need Joyce. And we need more readers who can read Joyce. Absolutely.

So let me nuance my position a bit:
Authors who write in English for an American audience send their work out into the social realities of that audience. These authors have choices to make about audience. Who will read their work? What would they like their work to mean, do *do*, and to whom? As they consider these questions, they must have access to clear data about the realities of American literacy to guide them in their "craft" choices. All craft decisions, from genre to "level" of prose, are decisions that shape the potential audience for the work, including some and excluding others. Responsible participation in creative writing literacy requires that authors make their choices purposefully and address both form and content to the included recipients of their work.

The English Lit folks owe it to America to create more Wayne Booths. And especially more black, Latino Wayne Booths. Wayne Booths who are granted a leg-up from poverty.

We CW folks owe it to America to produce more black, Latino, poor James Joyces, yes. But also to create creative writers to are aware of and act as conscious participants in the social realities of American literacy.

Booth citation:
Booth, Wayne. *The Company We Keep: An Ethics of Fiction.* Berkley: University of California Press, 1988. Print.

Data on masters degree recipients

So, in searching out data for the gender/class/racial demographics of the MFA graduate, I've come across a little bit of data relating to race, not about the MFA specifically, but about the English major in general, of which the MFA comprises some part.

First, racial demographics of the USA, according to the US census. Here's the breakdown for 2008:

White----79.8%
Black----12.8%
Hispanic----15.4%
Asian----4.5%
Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander----0.2%

It's important to note that persons who responded "Hispanic" could also report other categories, which I don't think is the case for the data that follows.

As far as I can tell, what we would hope from a progressive society is, at the very least, that the number of masters degree recipients by race would be roughly proportionate to the racial demographics of the nation. And this is pretty much what we get when we consider all masters degrees received between 2006 and 2007 after subtracting non-resident aliens from the total population measured:

White----74%
Black----11.6%
Hispanic----6%
Asian+pac islander----6.7%

White and black numbers suffer a slight decrease, apparently due to the disproportionately large number of Asian and Pacific Islander recipients. It is not clear whether the number for Hispanic recipients represents a drop from the proportion of the total population since these respondents, I believe, could not double report ethnicity.

So, more or less, this is good news for American education in general. Unless I'm reading the numbers wrong.

On the other hand, things are far bleaker when one turns to the number of recipients of masters degrees in English by race over the same period, again taking non-resident aliens out of the picture in order to get a more accurate representation of domestic racial demographics:

White----85%
Black----5%
Hispanic----4%
Asian+Pac Islander----3.7%

What can we call this but a failure on the part of American English departments? Racist, since it represents an institutional inequality based on race.

What this means for MFA programs is that, assuming the numbers in MFA programs are roughly equivalent to the numbers for the English department at large, in their role as sponsors of creative writing literacy, creative writing programs in the United States are favored white students and disfavored students of any other ethnicity.

Who gets to be a writer in America? Well, it helps if you're white.