A Workshop on Telling Stories That Matter, led by Robin Black, author of “If I Loved You, I Would Tell You This” (and my new BFF Writing Goddess Muse)
Towards the end of Robin Black’s workshop, she asked if anyone wanted to talk about revision, and I said “yes,” and indicated with my hands that she could go ahead and talk, as she had (perhaps more than she expected) for the past 2 ½ hours. Every workshop is different, and while she might have wanted more interaction from the 30 of us staring at her, all I know is I was writing down everything I could that she said (okay, 2 fingered pecking at my iPad touchscreen because I forgot my portable keyboard AND I didn’t have any paper to write on—yes, a writer without paper!). As much as I could, as fast as I could.
But she didn’t have to ask, because the reality is, we’d been talking about revision the entire time, about how to take our stories (whether they be fiction or non-fiction) to that deeper level where the reader is satisfied when she finishes reading. On my first page (of four) of notes, I typed THIS IS NOT A FIRST DRAFT DISCUSSION. I’m sure Black didn’t say it quite this way (and certainly not in block letters), but there it is in my notes, and it was exactly what I needed.
But in the same way that I started this essay with something from the end, and haven’t
yet started to move chronologically through my notes, Black’s workshop almost felt meandering, in the way things unfolded and how a comment by someone would shift the discussion in a different direction, how she made sure we knew that she was there for us, because she didn’t want anyone to leave wishing she had talked about something she hadn’t. But from the moment she started talking, it was clear to me we were in the hands of a master of the craft of writing, someone who knew exactly what she wanted to get across, and who could (and did) explain various ways to vastly improve our own writing in terms that seemed deceptively simple. In hindsight, her workshop felt like one of her stories (I’m requiring everyone I know to read her book!), where although the story itself may be told in an unconventional manner, may seem to weave from side to side, it’s obvious that the author knows exactly what she’s doing and why, and knows exactly where she wants to take you by the end.
Thus ends my attempt at creative nonfiction. Here are my notes, expanded and revised and edited and moved around, so that they might make sense to you (and to me!). Prior to the workshop, Robin Black asked us to read three short stories, but for brevity’s sake, I’ll just use one of them as an example, Raymond Carver’s “Cathedral” (which is familiar to some of you, and if it isn’t, should be!). When asked why she’d picked the particular stories she did, Black answered that each contained moments of brilliance as well as flaws, which made them useful for teaching purposes.
For a reader to be satisfied with a story, usually the reader has to be able to recognize himself in the story, relate in some way to what’s happening, as well as at the same time, see and understand something differently, to say to himself “I hadn’t thought of it that way before.” This searching comes from that place within us which wants not to feel alone, which also is the reason many writers write, because we believe we have something to say and that someone will want to hear it. In that way, the author and reader have a social relationship, and give each other a gift through this engagement. However, it is the author’s responsibility to do the best she can to deliver her story in a way that is accessible to the reader.
One way is to ask the following three questions about a story. 1. What is the story about? 2. What is the story REALLY about? 3. No, but REALLY what is the story about? Our group answered these three questions about “Cathedral” in this way—1. A blind man comes to the narrator’s house, 2. Marriage, relationships, personal history, 3. Self-discovery, overcoming prejudice, learning that humans are the same and not different. If a story fails, it’s because it hasn’t reached the third question, which has to do with universal themes. So beyond the usual teaching that the more specific in detail you are, the more universal your story will be, I learned that you still have to reach deep and understand what the universal themes are in your stories, whether they are about life and death, religion, prejudice, or whatever looms large in your heart of hearts AND you need to drop some signposts and hints about these universal themes into your stories.
And get some mention of the universal theme into your story early (but without hitting the reader over the head). With Carver, the title “Cathedral” serves as the early mention, and absolutely colors our reading of the first couple of pages. It gives weight and intrigue to an otherwise unlikeable and narrow-minded narrator. Black asked what this story would be like if it were called “Strawberry Pie” to emphasize how important titles can be. She said that the end of the story should not only tell you everything the title meant, but by the time you finish reading the story, the meaning of the title should change. I have always understood that for the most part, my titles are random and unhelpful, but didn’t know how to search my stories for better ones—through this discussion, I now have a better understanding of the purpose of titles, and how to find the right one.
End of Part 1. Stay tuned for Part 2: Beginnings, Sentences, Narrative Stance, First Drafts, and Revision. Coming Soon!
