I started going to a writing class two Sundays ago. It's on Sunday night, from 7-9:30pm. I signed up for the writing class because I'm working on a short story and I wanted to get feedback. Oh, I got some feedback. I got lots of feedback. I got beat up by 13 women. There are not actually 13 women in the class, maybe 10. But it seemed everyone of them and the three other men in the class thought my story was shit. Nobody could understand anything; everything was confusing. The class is supposed to start by discussing things they liked in the story or things they thought the author did well. For the first two people who shared their stories on Sunday, one man and one woman, this positive part of the discussion lasted a good 15 minutes. For me, one woman said, sincerely, that she enjoyed the awkwardness of my story. I put the characters in awkward situations, and she liked this. It was a really nice comment. Then immediately the questions and criticisms started to fill the room. My positive part lasted one person.
One of my goals with this short story was to make it simple. I wrote a short story previously that had two intertwined narratives, and I got some feedback that the dual narratives needed to be made more clear, the reader wanted to know why the two narratives belonged to the same story. In any case, I set out to write a more straightforward story this time. I figured, I'm a beginner, I should start simple and then build complexity as I write more short stories and maybe eventually a novel.
Back in class this one big dude, who also had his story work-shopped the same night, said, "this may be a little blunt, but what is this story about?". He went on to explain that the reason many of the other classmates were confused was probably because the central theme of my story is not clear. And you know, he's probably right. But fuck, what a shitty thing to say. That shit hurts. It feels like being punched. I felt like I brought this really ugly, dead baby to the party, and everyone else brought really expensive silverware, and everyone was like "shit man! why the fuck did you bring that dead, ugly baby! jesus man, that's so not cool." This big guy is an astonishingly good writer. He wrote this very dark story. Each sentence was unique. He displayed mastery of complex sentence structure and an ability to mix in simple sentences. It was obvious he had worked HARD and spent TIME WORKING HARD to produce a short story that didn't have a single cliche or familiar idiom, at least that's what it felt like. His vocabulary is (I'm having a hard time finding the right word) large (that is such a shitty word for this sentence). He is young, probably about 23, white, pretty buff and tall. He's kindof shy, but smart as hell, so when he speaks, he speaks with force. He's a writer, so he's probably also super sensitive; I don't doubt that. Our class work-shopped his story before mine and many of my classmates had very good things to say about his story. I, too, told him how impressive his writing was.
HOWEVER, I said, his story lacked an emotional core. This is not surprising, as I think at this point in his young life, he's all intellect and hasn't yet figured out how to be emotionally vulnerable or write stories that have some emotional vulnerability. But maybe he hates emotional vulnerability. Many people do. Maybe he will still be a great and successful writer and never find the emotional core. What the fuck is an emotional core? I could probably define it if I tried really hard, but I don't have the energy at the moment. So while I did heap praise on the young man, I also told him his story didn't have an emotional core, and I wasn't sure where the center was. He could be a postmodernist (I am a postmodernist, too) and reject the idea of centers (not like basketball, in basketball centers are still very important, at least to the stupid Golden State Warriors). But I told him I was confused with his story, even though it was written brilliantly, in a way. But I don't my criticism provoked him into asking me, "what is your story about" in this tone of voice that communicated, "Jesus, man, get your shit together, what the fuck is this shit about?! If I've got to read this shit, then you better be goddamn clear what the fuck this story is about." I'm totally exaggerating how mean this young man was. He's actually not that mean, he just seems introverted and writing classes give him the opportunity to feel powerful because he is gifted and possibly insecure.
There was also this one woman who started by saying, "well, I
really didn't like any of the characters" and then went on to pick apart my story on some kindof of slightly feminist but mostly supremely pretentious critique. I knew going in that my story could be susceptible to attacks from many directions. The characters in the story are misogynistic, racist, homophobic, and not really concerned with their white privilege. I tried to give the main character a great deal of complexity. He is many things and certainly not a bigot. I am very different from some of the characters in my story. But to be honest, I'm also very similar in ways, in the way that we are all misogynistic, racist and homophobic. I would make the argument that since we (those of us who grew up in the U.S.) were raised in a misogynistic, racist, homophobic culture, we, all of us, inherit these traits. OF COURSE, it's on a spectrum and it's very different from person to person. For example, it's my belief that a black man cannot be racist in the same way a white man can be. That is a huge debate for another time. The story I wrote, the one I want to write, is not going to back down to pretentious feminist critiques. It's a man's story. I am a man, and I wrote that shit. That does not give me license to go on the attack and perpetuate misogyny. On the contrary, one of my maybe more unconscious goals was to write about the everyday misogyny, racism and homophobia in white dudes in college (those are the main characters in the story). So, I think it leaves the story open to criticism. I do believe I need to work on the story. It absolutely needs work. That part was clear from the feedback I got from my warm and generous classmates.
I should be clear that I believe most of the women giving me negative feedback were not reacting to misogyny, racism, or homophobia. I just think they thought my story needed more work. And I should be very clear that only one woman felt to me like she was pretentious. The other women seemed grounded and balanced and just not that stoked about my story. But it still hurts to feel like everyone thinks your story sucks. I also am very aware that I am a white, straight man. I write from a position of extreme privilege, and it is my responsibility to be mindful of this with everything I write. People in the class could have been reacting to this, but I have no idea, since it was not explicitly stated.
On the other hand, you also want to stick by your shit. Even the pretentious, annoying woman can make a solid point about the female characters being one-dimensional and how historically, in a male dominated culture, this is usually the case. I have an opportunity to make the female characters in my story more developed, more interesting, more like the real women I know and love. But it's also a story that lends itself towards a one-dimensional view of women because of the main character and his perspective. Just writing all this down is making me think, "this shit is interesting." I also wanted to say when 13 women beat your ass, and you have a black eye and a puffy, bloodied cheek, you GET UP OFF THE MAT AND KEEP WRITING. Fuck that bullshit. I do need to find my story, cause it's in there.
Anthony
