David Eric Tomlinson (author) » On Writing

The DIY MFA in Creative Writing

David Eric Tomlinson — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 06:36:57 +0000

This summer, I’ll be quitting my full-time job to devote more time to writing. This renewed focus has me thinking about MFA programs, and I’ve been trolling creative writing web sites in my spare time, fantasizing about the application process. But with no programs here in Dallas, and only a few options for the low-residency MFA, the residency requirements (and costs) associated with most programs just aren’t practical for me.

So I’ve resolved to complete a “DIY MFA in Creative Writing,” utilizing free (or near-free) resources, including: the local library, local Dallas-Ft. Worth writing critique groups, a small network of alpha and beta readers, selective use of freelance editors, and the web. I’ll be trying to complete the first draft of my novel over the course of two years, taking occasional breaks to finish a collection of short stories (6 or 7 of which are complete).

The reading list for this stay-at-home-dad’s MFA is listed below, and reflects my tastes more than anything else. These are the stories I enjoy reading, and will hopefully influence the novel I eventually produce. I’ve read a few of these already, but most will be new. I’ve also sprinkled in some “just for fun” books such as Susanna Clarke’s “Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell”.

And so here, in no particular order, is my reading list for the next two years. I’ll get started in early June, and will update you infrequently on my progress and thoughts about each novel:

Rabbit, Run (John Updike)
The Right Stuff (Tom Wolfe)
Underworld (Don DeLillo)
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek (Annie Dillard)
2666 (Roberto Bolaño)
Oryx & Crake (Margaret Atwood)
The Story of Edgar Sawtelle (David Wroblewski)
Jesus’ Son (Denis Johnson)
Suttree (Cormac McCarthy)
The Brothers K (David James Duncan)
Collected Stories (Raymond Carver)
American Tabloid (James Ellroy)
The Cold Six Thousand (James Ellroy)
Matterhorn (Karl Marlantes)
Invisible Man (Ralph Ellison)
Under the Volcano (Malcolm Lowry)
Drop City (TC Boyle)
The Sweet Hereafter (Russell Banks)
Middlemarch (George Eliot)
Libra (Don DeLillo)
Stories (TC Boyle)
The Stories of John Cheever (John Cheever)
Collected Stories (Amy Hempel)
The Sportswriter (Richard Ford)
Independence Day (Richard Ford)
The Intuitionist (Colson Whitehead)
American Pastoral (Philip Roth)
Shadow Country (Peter Matthiessen)
Blindness (Jose Saramago)
Anna Karenina (Leo Tolstoy)
Gilead (Marilynne Robinson)
Disgrace (JM Coetzee)
Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell (Susanna Clarke)
Tree of Smoke (Denis Johnson)
Chronic City (Jonathan Lethem)
The Unconsoled (Kazuo Ishiguro)
The Sheltering Sky (Paul Bowles)
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay (Michael Chabon)
The Art of Racing in The Rain (Garth Stein)
Await Your Reply (Dan Chaon)
Geronimo Rex (Barry Hannah)
Airships (Barry Hannah)
Best American Short Stories 2005 (edited by Michael Chabon)
Slaughterhouse Five (Kurt Vonnegut)
The Things They Carried (Tim O’Brien)
Empire Falls (Richard Russo)
Escapes (Joy Williams)
The Complete Stories (Flannery O’Connor)
Too Much Happiness (Alice Munro)
Our Story Begins (Tobias Wolff)
The Elegance of the Hedgehog (Muriel Barbery)
Gravity’s Rainbow (Thomas Pynchon)

Made To Be Broken

David Eric Tomlinson — Sun, 21 Feb 2010 22:05:33 +0000

I just stumbled across this excellent article, inspired by Elmore Leonard’s top 10 rules for writers. Authors like Margaret Atwood, Roddy Doyle, Richard Ford, Jonathan Franzen, PD James, and more weigh in on how to keep the creative spark burning bright in the face of procrastination, obsession, addiction, and a whole host of other distractions.

I’ve been writing long enough now to feel confident adding in a few of my own tips:

Go With Your Gut
- If it feels “wrong” on any level, axe it. You’ll know when you’ve nailed your story or concept.
You’re The Boss
- The best writers will seek out help – in the form of critique groups, freelance editors, alpha and beta readers, or other sources of constructive criticism which should help the work “be all that it can be.” But you’re ultimately the author, and it’s your responsibility to own the final product.
- Neil Gaiman sums this up best in the article above, when he says: “Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.”
Get Lost
- And I don’t mean the TV show (though it’s an excellent time-waster if you need one). Take your dog for a walk, get away from your normal routine, get outside of your comfort zone. And pay attention to what’s happening around you – and inside your head – when it happens.
Just Do It
- Talking about writing … isn’t writing. Wanting to be an author … won’t make you one. Sometimes you have to just sit down in the chair and put words on paper. Stick to a routine. Sometimes it will be difficult to write a single sentence, other times the paragraphs will flow easily for hours on end. But eventually, day-after-day, you’ll build momentum. And the story will have written itself to “done.”

The thing I found interesting about this article is the diversity of tips that these authors have included. Everybody finds inspiration in different ways, and gets excited about their work (and the work of others) through different vehicles. Next time you sit down to write, see if you can come up with a few pointers for yourself. Then write them down … it might help.

Peeling Back The Onion

David Eric Tomlinson — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 00:05:39 +0000

I was feeling pretty good about myself going into the holidays, good enough to take several weeks off from writing and just be for a little while. As my wife and I packed for our visit to the coast, I even considered leaving behind my trusty laptop: all I was going to be doing for several weeks straight was reading anyway.

On the plane flight to San Francisco I finished Let The Great World Spin, by Colum McCann, as well as the most recent issue of Glimmertrain Stories. Then I dove into The Best American Short Stories, 2009. Boy was that a mistake.

Don’t get me wrong: the stories are fan-tas-tic. I especially enjoyed Ethan Rutherford’s The Peripatetic Coffin, even going so far as to email the author after Googling him and stumbling upon his web site.

After all of the reading done over the holiday break, I realized that in the last year or so, I’ve taken the first few steps in what will undoubtedly be a marathon of writing, rewriting, editing, hair-pulling, rewriting, throwing away, and writing even more. The rejection slips are piling up, tangible evidence that I can stick to a routine, draft stories that are engaging to at least one reader (namely … me), and not get too discouraged.

But the sheer volume of short stories I read over the holidays has shown me that there are so many more ways to think about moving through something: an action, an emotion, a series of events, a premonition. I need to stretch myself even further than I’ve been doing.

The story I’ve been working on lately is about a United States Marine recruiter, and by the time I’m finished with it I will have spent more than twice the amount of time I typically spend on a story. One evening in particular, I spent three hours furiously rewriting what I’d already drafted, then wrote one more paragraph to move things along before calling it quits. My word count had actually decreased after three hours of writing.

Writing is like peeling back the layers of an onion: there’s always another layer to explore, always something new to learn. Sometimes, it can be so frustrating you just want to cry. And I’m okay with that – another layer of the onion peeled, digested, assimilated into the daily grind of it all.

This year, I’ve resolved to read more than last year, and to spend just as much time writing as last year. And to slow down, savor the words a little more, and dig deeper into each sentence, paragraph, and story.

Local Hero

David Eric Tomlinson — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 16:17:55 +0000

I’ve been asked by a friend of mine, who also happens to teach 8th grade English here in Dallas, to come speak to her class about writing. She’s read several of my stories, and her class will be discussing “The Hero’s Journey” in January, so I’m now on the hook to put together a somewhat coherent lesson on the short story and how it relates to the Monomyth concepts described here.

There are a few things that jump out as I begin thinking about what to say.

One of them is the concept of Community: the hero leaves home, is engaged in an incredibly exciting adventure, gains magical powers or insight … and is then expected to return to the hum-drum routines of everyday life in order to share his magical powers with the local Community.
- Joseph Campbell, the author of Hero With A Thousand Faces and the incredibly sharp guy who documented this mythological construct after reading and comparing thousands of texts, believes that a hero who refuses to share his mystical knowledge with the Community (a responsibility which can come at great personal expense to the hero), has failed to complete his heroic journey.
- After all, what kind of a hero helps … himself? Imagine a Superman who only cared about winning the heart of Lois Lane. Or a Michael Clayton who took the bribe rather than expose the corruption in U-North.
The second concept also has to do with refusal: Refusal of the Call. The hero simply says “why bother?” and continues playing Guitar Hero while the world falls apart out his window.
- Campbell writes: “Refusal of the summons converts the adventure into its negative. Walled in boredom, hard work, or ‘culture,’ the subject loses the power of significant affirmative action and becomes a victim to be saved. His flowering world becomes a wasteland of dry stones and his life feels meaningless – even though, like King Minos, he may through titanic effort succeed in building an empire or renown. Whatever house he builds, it will be a house of death: a labyrinth of cyclopean walls to hide from him his minotaur. All he can do is create new problems for himself and await the gradual approach of his disintegration.”
- That’s a pretty dire prognosis. Refusal of the call results in the “future” hero never realizing his full potential, doomed to a life of failure and regret.

Campbell’s system tells us that the home is the center of the hero’s world: it’s where he spent his formative years, it’s why he fights and strives against supernatural forces, and it’s the place he desperately needs to return to complete the story. A healthy, fulfilling home life has more power over our hero – whether it be Superman, Michael Clayton, or Bilbo Baggins – than the evil forces against which he strives.

The kids in this 8th grade class attend a well-respected Dallas private school focusing on an international perspective to education. Every one of them can speak three languages or more (French, English and Spanish), and each will have more opportunities than many of their peers in the Dallas public school system. But only if they decide to accept a highly personal and challenging call to adventure, work hard to achieve it, and give something back to their friends, family or local community.

Conflicted

David Eric Tomlinson — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 01:30:17 +0000

I spent this past Halloween weekend sating myself on saccharine and chocolate, my wife and I trudging around in the perfect October weather behind our children – who were dressed as Hermione Granger and Hannah Montana, respectively. On Sunday we had some friends over and ate chocolate chip pancakes, drank too much coffee, then grilled bratwurst on the back porch while the kids all played soccer in the yard. It was a completely relaxing couple of days filled with family, fun, friends, and food … and not a drop of conflict.

One of our guests this weekend mentioned that she is becoming disillusioned with reading short stories, because so many of them are depressing, dark, and brooding; the characters either do damage to their loved ones or themselves; the endings usually leave everything up in the air. What’s going to happen? Will things get worse, or better? Is this a happy ending or a depressing one?

I was trying to explain that conflict is so essential to drive narrative forward, and that a short story has so little time to establish the world in which the protagonist must act that conflict is often relied upon as the engine driving the reader forward. Nobody wants to read a short story about a weekend filled with chocolate chip pancakes and shiny, happy, well-adjusted people looking after their kids. But zombie Rottweiler dogs chasing a teenage vampire killer through a post-apocalyptic cityscape? Now that’s a page-turner.

In grade school most of us learned about the typical forms conflict can take: Man vs. Man, Man vs. Nature, Man vs. Himself. When I hear the term, I think of men and women striving against dark, external forces … the kind of thing you see in action movies. Whether it’s psychological or physical, set against a historical backdrop or all in the protagonist’s head, the tension created when a character is up against forces seemingly greater than their own pulls the reader in and propels the story into the next sentence, paragraph, scene, chapter. Or sequel if you’re lucky.

One of my challenges as an author is trying to find the psychological or emotional tension in normal, everyday situations – like watching a basketball game, or sitting in church listening to a sermon – and extrapolating that tension into a kind of conflict that’s real, and yet interesting at the same time. I don’t write about zombie Rottweiler dogs, or vampires – and yet my fiction must have the same sense of urgency and importance if it’s going to work (for me … and for my readers).

Today was my birthday, and I ended up having to stay home from work to look after my oldest daughter, who was running a low-grade fever. At the pediatrician’s office, when we learned that she would need to be tested for both strep throat and the flu, my daughter burst into tears and came over to sit in my lap during the tests. As the nurse worked to shove several extra-long Q-tips into my daughter’s nose and throat, I had to restrain her hands to keep them away from her face. She was blubbering and crying, absolutely miserable.

I don’t know how most parents react to hearing their children cry, but to me it’s like listening to fingernails scrape down a chalk board: an almost unbearable sound that lets me know something in the universe is not as it should be, and that it’s likely all my fault, and why can’t I just fix it so that the crying stops? My stomach was churning … I would have given anything at that moment to be outside of that pediatrician’s office, with a healthy little girl, eating ice cream or watching TV. What the hell was this woman doing, manhandling my daughter? Did she even go to school for this … where were her credentials? Was it a one year certificate class or a four year degree? At that moment, the distinction seemed important. I thought of asking her to be more gentle, then held my tongue.

Almost before the nurse had started swabbing my daughter’s nose and throat she was done, exiting the room quickly and leaving the two of us huddled on the tiny plastic chair beside the examination table, two sobbing and miserable human beings. We were up against the common cold, maybe strep throat, possibly a global H1N1 pandemic. It was an important moment: filled with drama, emotion, fear … and conflict. We’d ventured together into the cold, not-so-sterile badlands of the healthcare industry in the hopes of finding a cure, and had now passed the first test successfully.

On to the next one.

The Outline

David Eric Tomlinson — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 02:19:47 +0000

I’ve started to appreciate the power of having a well-planned outline as I close in on the last half of the one I’m currently completing. At over 100 pages (and 35,000 words so far) the outline itself is only about 2/3 complete. But already I’m glad to have taken time out from producing pages to really think the story through.

Being an intensely visual person, I realized right away that some kind of chart or diagram would be required to keep me on track. Google turned up some examples of various techniques used by authors to keep organized, including the duct-tape of outlining tools – the 3×5 note card. But I wanted something digital, which could easily be emailed or saved onto a thumb drive, then accessed from my computer in various coffee shops around town.

So I ended up just using Adobe Illustrator and hacking through what I’m calling the novel’s “visual synopsis” on my own. I created a matrix, with characters on the vertical axis and dates/chapter numbers/estimated page count on the horizontal. Each chapter icon contains a few sentences summarizing the relevant plot points, and I can now easily sketch out, rethink or completely change a character’s development across the novel as I work on the outline in Microsoft Word format. Without the visual synopsis I’d be lost, as the outline has swelled to a larger beast than I’d originally planned, and I’m now on version number four of the story.

I’m hoping that this few months of preparation will help me stay focused when I begin writing. Right now I have a full time job running the marketing department at a software company here in Dallas, and at the end of a day filled with buzz words it’s much easier to slip into full-blown writing mode if I know where I’m at in the story … and where it’s headed next.

Get Back, Jack

David Eric Tomlinson — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 02:08:49 +0000

In college I had a writing professor – Rae Armantrout – who had us read Jack Kerouac and attempt to imitate his style. We were supposed to go to a crowded place and sit down and just start writing the first thing that popped into our minds, ignoring any impulses to edit or steer the narrative in any way.

I found myself at a coffee shop in San Diego, the ‘Gelato Vero’ cafe, which was right across from a big Mobile gas station that featured a giant, red sign with a Pegasus leaping up into the sky over San Diego’s Mission Bay. I remember that sitting next to me was a man reading a “Time” magazine which had a cover story asking “Are Angels Real?”, and he was in deep conversation with his friend.

I can still remember that conversation and the flow of that writing exercise: the man was complaining about how people seem to “sap his energies” – that some people in his life took up more energy than they gave him back in return. I called this guy the “Miracle Man” in the writing exercise and he was constantly being interrupted by the man he was talking to, who was totally picking up what Miracle Man was laying down. As they talked, I was scribbling away furiously at the next table, faithfully recording the conversation and the passing traffic and the feeble attempts of the MOBILE! Pegasus to hawk gasoline at us from across the street.

Now Jack Kerouac had a really interesting and unique approach to writing – when he drafted “On The Road” he created one giant, 120 foot long roll of paper which he fed into his typewriter so that he could write without having to stop and reload the machine. He believed in “breath” and spontaneity in writing, and supposedly abhorred the instinct to edit (though it’s apparent his work was often revised and heavily edited).

I’ve been working for almost two months now on an outline for a book I’m about to start writing (the outline’s about 70 pages long so far and not even close to done), and this freeform approach to writing is starting to sound like a ton of fun after the methodical and almost scientific past few months. If you’re an author and need a break from your current project – consider heading down to the local coffee shop (or wine bar, if you’re really trying to channel Jack) and just mashing everything you see together into a kind of prose poem: it could be a catalyst for some new ideas.

The Art of the Short Story

David Eric Tomlinson — Sat, 12 Sep 2009 15:29:48 +0000

I’ve been writing short stories pretty frantically for a few months now, and I’m beginning to notice a few trends in my process:

Start at the End: I’m finding that when the “eureka!” moment hits for a story, it centers around how the story will end. Not necessarily a cliffhanger but an important moment of psychological transition or development for the character.
Center on a Compelling Image: For “Animal Control” this was a pair of white X’s in the center of an asphalt road. For “Sympathetic Magic” it was ancient cave paintings. For “Student Body” it was a small white woman dressed in a black face costume. For the one I’m working on now it’s a little boy dressed in a white dress. There’s something about that compelling image that has to be sustained in the reader’s consciousness – from beginning, to middle, to end – so that when the reader finally encounters the imagery it resonates. Carry a notebook with you everywhere and write down images or thoughts as you work, exercise, even watch TV … trust me, you will forget them later if you don’t capture them now.
Create an Outline: I started a new job recently and I’m finding that drafting an outline before I begin writing a story saves me a ton of of time. I can sit down in the coffee shop and be very productive, even if I’m not really in the mood to write, by cherry picking one of the most fun scenes – no matter where it falls chronologically in the story.
Experiment with POV: Over the last six weeks I’ve written stories in first person, third person limited and the dreaded second person POVs. Switching POVs helps you find out which is more fun and can help you stumble upon your voice.
Get Objective Feedback: Preferably from a professional editor but if this isn’t possible then join a critique group. Never listen to your spouse … they love you too much to tell you what you need to hear.

Run With It

David Eric Tomlinson — Wed, 13 May 2009 03:04:00 +0000

I used to be a pretty good athlete, decades ago. In high school I was the Oklahoma state champion in the pole vault 2 years running, and took second place another year. Over the years, I’ve kept in shape by approaching workouts like eating, or sleeping: something that has to be done almost every day, no matter how small or insignificant the workout might seem.

After the holidays, getting back into the gym can feel demoralizing. Whereas before the break you might have been running 3, 4, even 5 miles a day on the treadmill, after all of the eggnog, turkey and chocolate from Xmas you’re lucky to get 1 or 2 in. I used to beat myself up about a bad day at the gym, which would make me want to go there less and less, until I realized that the important thing is not “how hard” you work out when you’re there, but just that you motivate to get yourself there in the first place.

Writing is very similar. Some nights I pound out 1,000 words in nothing flat and feel great – others I goof around in my notebook writing down vague ideas that may never turn into anything at all. The important part is not “how much” you’re getting onto the page, the important part is just showing up at your desk in the first place, ready to think about writing, ready to actually write, ready to edit, ready for whatever happens.

Someone told me once about a playwright who would write for at least an hour, every day (I can’t remember his name). One day he sat down to write and wrote “The …” – then paced in his office for 60 minutes, finally finishing the sentence “… hell with it.” But at least he was there, ready for the lightning bolt, should it strike. Ready to run with it if the ideas were flowing.

*Update* 05/31/2009

In a surprising development, my writing regimen is cutting into my running regimen. I’ll need a new belt soon at this rate.

Go Big or Go Home

David Eric Tomlinson — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 17:51:00 +0000

It’s been a trying couple of weeks here in Aspiring Authorland. After plodding along at a pretty regular clip on a novel and completing about 1/3 of the first draft, I submitted it to an editor and asked for some objective input on how it was going.

Needless to say, his eyes didn’t open wide with delight like Simon Cowell’s did a few weeks back when Susan Boyle opened her mouth to start singing. His feedback was to stop, go back to the beginning, and start over from scratch. As hard as that was to hear, I actually agreed with him.

But while he was evaluating the manuscript, I shot out of bed one night with a perfect idea for a short story. I finished the final draft last night. It’s called “Animal Control” and it’s beautiful. Really. I showed it to this same editor, worked with him briefly on it, and submitted it this morning to “The New Yorker.” As crazy as this sounds, I think it actually has a shot at being considered for publication there, or I wouldn’t have sent it in. I’ll post an update here once I hear back from them.

What did I learn from all of this?

Go Big or Go Home

Write what you love. I was writing a formulaic novel because I had been reading agent blogs, editor blogs, publisher blogs and the like for months, and thought that if I could just piece together something that made sense and had a semi-interesting hook, it would sell. The problem with this approach? My heart wasn’t that into it.

The exact opposite happened with the short story. It appeared one night, fully formed, demanding to be written. I will probably not make much, if any, money off of it. But it’s pretty damn good. It’s heart is in the right place, because I put all of myself into it.