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Kayleen Oliver
EN 212/ Jones
Workshop Reflection
12/8/11
This semester has been an intensive 15 weeks to come together, work hard, and learn about myself as a both a student and writer. In conjunction with a class like Poetry & Fiction where I’m asked to regain my identity as a creative writer, I’m also participating in Senior Thesis class. Needless to say, these are quite the combination when presented in the same semester, both writing centered, but for entirely different purposes. My thesis is centered on the works of Native American fiction writer, Louise Erdrich; I’ve really connected to the way she conducts herself as a writer and in reflecting it seems like some of those characteristics have carried over to Poetry & Fiction, perhaps subconsciously. As I’ve been doing research and reading a variety of her novels and poetry Louise Erdrich confidently explains, “Here I am, where I ought to be. A writer must have a place where he or she feels this, a place to love and be irritated with”(Lundquist) which is precisely how I feel about the nature of workshop.
The implementation of workshop has been a definite challenge for me as an individual and writer simply because it demands that I release my guard and become vulnerable to achieve results. However, after a semester long process I’ve come to understand that workshop is a environment for me to love and become irritated with in the same breath; it is this combination that has allowed me to exude confidence in my writing while attempting to uncover ways to challenge myself to balance the writing process between moments of love and passion, coupled with those of frustration and bitterness. This sincere communion and the feedback from those in workshop has allowed me to also simultaneously combat thesis; acknowledging the bursts love for my topic joined by the frustration of maintaining research and an effective purpose in writing for the final presentation this May. This semester has been a challenging one, but has been coupled with encouragement all the same. Workshop has forced me to take ownership for my writing and the pieces that I have been able to construct while simultaneously causing me to be vulnerable in a classroom setting. While people’s comments have challenged me there have also been a number of works distributed and studied throughout the course of the semester, which have given me great perspective, furthering my identity as a developing writer.
Within her critical anthology “Poems, Poets, & Poetry” writer Helen Vendler includes another prominent figure of the Native American genre: Sherman Alexie. Although I had the chance to experience Alexie’s writing in prior studies of Native American literature I recognized that those experiences pertained most closely to fiction writing while Vendler began to introduce his poetry. She includes one piece, “Evolution” that yearns to push the envelope while providing great commentary of Native Americans and the struggle toward assimilation. Exposure, whether emotionally or socially, is Alexie’s great craft, which I yearn to bring to my work. For example, in this piece Alexie writes, “The Indians/ pawn their hands, saving the thumbs for last/ they pawn their skeletons”(lines 8-10) and while this line is graphic and sits uneasily with readers, Sherman Alexie still manages to present a great social and emotional message. Throughout each of his pieces, fiction and poetry alike, Alexie works skillfully to put his readers in the thick of controversy while introducing images promoting emotional upset. He displays great confidence in writing, in exposing the truth, and this is what I hope for as I continue forward in my writing career.
Perhaps more interesting than his heavy imagery and unsettling presentation is the ways by which his pieces offer humor coupled with the truth utilizing simplistic language. He retorts, “when the last Indian has pawned everything but his heart/ Buffalo Bill takes that for twenty bucks”(lines 11-12). This line presents the concept of greed, of selfishness, and an overwhelming quest for dominance over the powerless; he presents each of these ideas in simple form and yet, no tension is lost as people read his piece. Perhaps this is one concept I feel like I have struggled with most throughout workshop. I have acquired a defense mechanism in order to combat the low self- esteem that introduces itself continually throughout my work; instead of being fluid and capturing the overhead story of what I’m trying to say I manage to get lost in detail and this transfers to my reader.
I remember workshop for my first poetry piece, “God Swell” where students in the class shared their confusion of the piece and its general theme. Some said it was simply too long while Zach shared that there were just too many snapshots of images being presented; he claimed that every time he began to digest a facet of my work the image was changed and he had to struggle through it once again. While they noted the power of lines such as, “from your forearm to the heart of the problem” each explained the overwhelming heaviness they felt in trying to stomach this piece. Instances such as these are ones where I recognize that rambling and useless enjambment have become a defense mechanism for me to get lost in the words instead of feeling confident to convey the message of my work. While simplicity seems enticing and effective in pieces like Sherman Alexie I can’t seem to write anything other than an overwhelming canvas of mixed up thoughts and swelling emotions. The pieces I create then, somehow attempt to keep up with the ways of a busy mind; whether it’s in length or form, I’m always attempting to manage the anxiety of writing and sharing such experiences. It is in this way and through such comments that workshop has actually made me realize how I function has a writer and some of what I need to change in order to accommodate those around me who might be reading this piece. Workshop, in this sense, has also forced me to commit my ideas and language to paper, accepting that pairs of eyes would slowly glance across my writing and provide feedback.
While Alexie is a writer I’ve previously experienced, his poem “Evolution” is one I had not yet stumbled upon. Within the anthology suggested I found this piece and was immediately stunned at the tactics and surprises he continues to use in writing; while writing about serious topics such as culture and devastation, I realized that Alexie creates moments of humor so as not to overwhelm his readers. Instead, he longs for his work to be a teaching moment for audiences; they receive the hard- hitting message without getting lost in the struggle that the piece actually centers on. This is a technique that I believe workshop, the comments given, and Alexie’s work have inspired me to work toward. Although I attempt to hide my anxieties of both workshop and writing behind an overwhelming amount of words and description, and although it feels comfortable to shield from exposure, this hinders readers from actually knowing and understanding who I am as writer. Furthermore, it hinders me from ever feeling confident enough to effectively share and communicate my writing in the talented way that Alexie does. Therefore, although I may have experienced Alexie’s raw writing before, it is his poetry that has greatly begun to challenge my writing abilities; I must remain both committed and confident in the message of my writing and eventually desire to share my perspective with those around me. Workshop has begun to slowly crack open that shell while breaking the shield of comfort I had previously built.
Perhaps I should say that during workshop the emotional component was always the one to make me most anxious. Although we only workshop two pieces throughout the semester I consistently wondered, “What will people think of me: a story about a girl with an eating disorder and a poem about self injury and religion? What the heck am I trying to be? Who’s even going to take it seriously?” I spent a lot of time wondering whether how I would be perceived in the class, wondering whether people would actually see me for the stories and vulnerability I’d volunteered to recreate. It’s not to say I wanted to exude sympathy, but I worried that the emotion would be too deep to be taken as a serious writer and student.
Upon examining this particular anthology further I came across another famous writer, Sylvia Plath, and was instantly reminded of her journals, her poem, “Mirror” and most notably, her novel The Bell Jar. However, Vendler’s collection had a new work to offer entitled, “The Applicant.” After reading over this piece and trying to effectively understand the social commentary behind her contemplative words, I realized that Plath’s writing was challenging me much like Alexie’s work had previously done. While asking me to tackle the truth of social constructs and twisted expectations of society Plath’s poem also enabled me to see that emotion in poetry is key. The first line of the poem reads, “First, are you our sort of a person?” in which readers are immediately introduced to great thought and the anxiety of perception; these are two internal emotions that I consider myself very much attached to. Not only is she presenting this to her audience, identifying that there is a mold within society, but she seems to questioning herself and her particular place within such a mobile and busy construction. This line makes me wonder what kind of person I am in relation to those around me along with the somewhat warped way that I perceive myself. At a later portion of the poem Plath explains great frustration of routine when her speaker says, “A living doll, everywhere you look. /It can sew, it can cook,/ It can talk, talk , talk (lines 33-5).” This could be examined to emphasize how mechanical and rigid Plath feels within her environment, fearful to break the mode of what’s expected.
Although she is known for the great challenges throughout her life, and of course, her act of suicide, Plath’s introspective poetry has taught me a great deal about what I hope to achieve as a continually developing writer. Using pieces such as “The Applicant” to support my perspective, I’ve learned that it’s not so much about fitting the mold of what’s expected to be conveyed in a classroom, as much as it is about recognizing ourselves as a writer and communicating the truth, whatever shape truth may assume. I had read many of Sylvia Plath’s works early on in my high- school career, but none ever hit as close as “The Applicant” which I had never read before receiving this assignment. In reading her work and attempting to digest some of the vulnerability she presented in this piece I began to understand that if there’s emotion and heavy subjects within my writing (such as eating disorders, self injury, and depression) I’m going to keep them intact because they’re meant to be there. Although my pieces might have been written for an assignment, meant to be shared with members of my class, each told a particular story of some greater part of my life. A greater struggle or a greater victory was communicated and instead of living in fear of how it’s going to be perceived revisiting Plath’s work taught me an even greater lesson: writing and sharing aren’t about the perceptions that we get from other people, it’s about the ability to recognize an active thought and bravely share it into the world. Was I fearful of bringing these issues into workshop: of course. Did I spend a lot of time comparing my style and subjects to those around me: more than anyone can imagine. I think that’s where workshop took its greater hold of me and my anxiety as a writer, one who’s never been to sure of herself from the beginning.
However, after completing the course and the workshops asked of us, after receiving feedback and actively participating in discussion of my work, I began to realize, much like Sylvia Plath’s works, that I wasn’t writing for the tastes of others. Instead, I was writing to satisfy myself, to convey a type of message, and to share the truth of who I am as a writer and person. There’s no greater moment than a realization such as that.
Initially in my research for thesis and my discovering of Louise Erdrich’s writing I stumbled upon the aforementioned quote: “A writer must have a place where he or she feels this, a place to love and be irritated with” and even after writing this reflection and examining some of my habits as a student I’ve still managed to feel the same. Workshop for me has been a place where a community is built and an appreciation of writing is fostered; this is something I love and greatly respect. It’s been a moment where we can all sit back and appreciate the language that has been presented while seeing each other be continually tested as students. However, it’s also been a situation that I personally have been irritated with; this is not due to the class itself, but the moments of anxiety that I can feel beginning to build as my day of workshop comes closer on the syllabus. I become irritated and disappointed with my work, feeling as though there’s more to be done and a greater amount to be accomplished before sharing what I perceive as “rubbish” with the class. Workshop has always been a moment for me to be kept on my toes, one that constantly leaves me questioning my writing and my place within the greater realm of writers that I see at Arcadia.
However, in skimming through some works of the anthology, “Poems, Poets, and Poetry” I’ve realized that my self- esteem is in desperate need of fortification. It is through the painfully humorous works of Sherman Alexie and the contemplative truths of Sylvia Plath that I have been challenged to revamp myself as a writer. Each of these esteemed writers and their presented poetry have introduced me to a new tactic of writing that I desperate to attempt. Furthermore, each of them have allowed me to recognize that while vulnerability and emotion are meant to constructed in writing, so too is confidence to share my perspective with those who are willing to listen.
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