Dawson: Chapter 3 and 4

In this chapter, "Workshop Poetics," Dawson puts into practice the theoretical analysis of workshop practices that he promised in his intro. I'd say the results are mixed. He repeats his "mini-histories" approach from the last chapter, this time giving the background of three guiding principles of most Creative Writing workshops: "Reading as a writer," "Show, don't tell," and "Discovering a voice."

Here's his orientation for the chapter:

In asking if there is a poetics of creative writing, I mean a general theory of literature (fiction, poetry, drama)--but literature as creative writing, that is, as a process rather than product, something which has been written rather than something which is to be read; and a general theory of literature which enables the analysis of specific texts, in particular, the student manuscript. (90)

I'm not sure if he can really make a distinction between something that "has been written" and something else that "is to be read." Likewise, splitting process and product is a bit problematic, but the general orientation is sound, I think. He wants to ask what literature is for writers, and he wants to ask this in a way that helps us all to analyse student work. Fair enough.

In his section on "reading as a writer," he defines this phrase as "reading with the aim of discovering ways to improve one's own writing" (91). Apparently, reading like a writer goes back further than the source I cited as a lead in my last post. Dorthea Brande's book Becoming a Writer (1934) was the first to use the term.

Dawson starts with Walter Besant and works forward in large strides. He arrives at Moxley's collection Creative Writing in America and notes that most of the entries are occupied by this notion of teaching student writers a particular method of reading.

A few quotes worth pulling:

We have seen here an attempt to distinguish Creative Writing from Literary Studies by virtue not of the work students produce, but of the manner in which they read literature. It is a difficult distinction, however, based on a difference of motivation (to learn how to write rather than how to appreciate literature), and presumably of expertise (the writer drawing upon his or her first-hand experience of the craft rather than a training in literary study)" (95).

It is obvious that the terminology employed in the writing workshop, such as plot, structure, point of view, dialogue and character, is formalist in orientation. And it is also obvious that this sort of reading of literature wishes to concentrate on the craft of writing: how a work of literature is made, rather than extra-literary concerns. The claim, however, that 'reading as a writer' is somehow not criticism, based on a writer's point of view than a critic's, cannot be validated. (96)

So the distinction between literary studies and CW, between the author and the critic, is tenuous at best. Authors do criticism, and CW students are very much students learning to appreciate literature even as they learn to "make" it.

Dawson's work on "show, don't tell" is more or less a rehashing of Wayne Booth's work on the same topic in his Rhetoric of Fiction. So I'm skipping. Better to quote from the Booth.

In the "discovering a voice" section, Dawson brings Morton and Zavarzadeh back in as "the most damning critique of Creative Writing from the perspective of postmodern theory" (108), which is a pretty clear sign that I need to find that one and read it.

There is a sort of "surprise" section on Authorship that has a bunch of good stuff in it. It strikes me that Authorship is a central concern for Creative Writing Theory--defending the author against claims that would undermine his/her power, finding ways to understand the reach and limits of authorial power in such a way that enables authors to base their efforts on reasonable assumptions about what effects they might hope to achieve--these are important projects.

Dawson says this:

Authorship exists in the workshop as an implicit assumption, in the sense that an exemplary text is attributed to an agent who has consciously employed techniques of writing. 'Reading as a writer' operates by approaching the text as a series of artistic choices made by the author...And while these techniques are implicitly attributed to a conscious organising agent, that agent is only the anonymous embodiment of the compositional techniques themselves (115)

So students to not attempt to read into the psychology or biography of the author, but are simply interested in the author as a set of artistic choices among available techniques and their application.

The writer is the origin of the piece, the owner and the one responsible for its development towards an exemplary standard. The writer may be consulted for clarification and subsequently put forward motivation, an intent, which was not apprehended or indeed was misinterpreted by readers. (115)

The intent referred to in a workshop is not the end-goal of the critical work done on a piece. Rather, it provides an aid to the work of remediation or of improving the piece.

The object of analysis for intellectual work performed on student manuscripts is not the reconstruction of the writer's intention; there is no desire to latch on to a single wordless meaning and enable its expression (115)

This is not to say that students do not perceive themselves as creative beings using writing as a medium for their ideas. The student manuscript is undoubtedly an authored work but it is not critically apprehended or evaluated within the discipline according to a paradigm of authorial criticism derived from Romanticism. Furthermore, the reading practices which enable Creative Writing to operate as a discipline are not reifications of the writer's consciousness. They are derived from formalist literary criticism. (115-116)

So CW workshops assume an "intent" in student work, but are only interested in that intent in as much as it expresses itself in formal, or technical, choices made in the process of writing the draft, choices which may have resulted in a poor communication of that technical intent and which therefore require revision.

It strikes me that the whole project would be impossible without the assumption and investigation of the student author's intent. How else would one suggest revisions? Based on what? Without appealing to the author and asking "What did you hope to accomplish here? Why did you choose this form and apply it in this way?" we are left to apply our own arbitrary standards of taste or "good writing" which could only result in a sort of aesthetic tyranny. Not to mention a stifling of the very creativity the discipline is meant to nurture if not teach. And eventually a blandness and sameness to student work.

I am going to have to read up on the New Critical "intentional fallacy" and see how this compares to the type of formalist intent Dawson finds at work in the workshop.

Dawson's conclusions for the chapter:

The poetics of Creative Writing, then, consists of a critical study of exemplary texts which is no different from...formalist criticism.... The end of this study is not so much a critical evaluation of these texts...nor a structuralist account of the linguistic codes which underlie all narrative, nor even a stockpiling of narrative methods and devices which may be of use to the writer, but the development of a method of 'reading as a writer.' This same method of criticism is then deployed in the analysis of student manuscripts, of works in progress, with the intention not of passing final evaluative judgement, but of aiding its progress to a completed form, and with the secondary intention of encouraging the aspiring writer to internalise this form of criticism as a method of revision and editing and an integral part of the 'creative' process. (120)

Reading is the deal. Makes sense in light of somethings I've read by David Lodge and others. Criticism is an essential part of the creative process, and it is this aspect of Creative Writing that we can actually teach. Although, I'm not totally opposed to the "stockpiling" of techniques. You have to know what's been done and how its been done in order to find new ways to play with whatever genre you're working in. Still, reading is it. At least according to Dawson. The student writer learns to 'read as a writer' and thereby internalizes the critic as a part of his/her creative process.

And all this time, I've been told to "silence the internal critic." Dawson is suggesting that the whole point is to strengthen, inform, and give voice to the internal critic. It's this critic that is doing all the work.

Leads:

T.S. Eliot enters the discussion once again. His essays "The Frontiers of Criticism" and "The Function of Criticism" (and there may be a few others) look like they may be required reading for me this semester.

A nice quote from Paul Engle (1964):

Criticism is not simply a fiendish attack on a book, but a constant part of the writer's job, beginning with his rejection of one concept in favour of another, one image, one phrase, rather than others.

More or less supports Eliot's theses, I believe.

Chapter 4: I skimmed it and am passing. It's a history of Creative Writing in Australia, which is interesting, but not so germane. They get a late start down under, and wind up with the workshop model just like everyone else. They're a bit more interdisciplinary. Clearly separated from the English Studies folks.

The real meat of the book, I hope, is up next: Chapter 5. "Negotiating Theory"