Tuesday, November 05, 2013

Recent Analysis: I Write Like a mini Corey Doctorow, Oscar Wilde, or my Husky Audrey

It’s my turn to go into the bubble tonight and it could get interesting.

“The bubble” is MFA speak for everyone in the room discussing your work while you remain completely inert.

If post-class commentary is any indicator, my first bubble experience went exceedingly well.  The prevailing sentiment was that I am freaking hilarious, although with a penchant toward going “over the top" and relying on endings that “over-state their case.”

Part of me thinks it’s their loss and part of me worries.

“You’re the only one in the program who has ever attempted to do this,” prof Dan Not His Real Name explained.

Overall, that’s not really great news, because the humorous-yet-meaningful essay concept of isn’t original.  What it says to me is that no one in the program knows the genre.  We’ve already established the fact that I’ve read entirely different books than the rest of the cadre.  Which means my literary “teachers”—writers like Robert Fulgham and Lori Notaro—are complete strangers to those who will be coaching me toward what I dream could be my eventual success in the genre.

But I’m also left to wonder if, perhaps in a world where political unrest, financial crisis, and natural disaster demand the attention of our best minds, even-- perhaps especially-- our scribes, there’s not much need for observations from the back of the fridge, or other tiny little specks on the globe.

Tonight’s bubble experience will be further complicated by the fact that, due to a formatting error (I forgot to double space) I accidently sent twice as much material as requested.  Further analysis revealed the possibility probability that I sent a less-than-thoroughly edited rendition of the text, thereby increasing the likelihood for spirited discussion, and an riveting experience within the bubble.  I figure it’s the closest I’ll ever get to being a fly on the wall.

Note: an email came in from Dan, mid-post composition, asking the workshoppers to go to plug in a few sentences of our work to determine which famous author we are most like.  I sampled 4 pieces of text—two were my most recent blog posts) and discovered that I’m a mini Corey Doctorow.  Or perhaps Oscar Wilde.  Maybe Margaret Alwood.  Or, who knows, Stephanie Meyer. It’s just as likely that I emulate my Husky, Audrey, who has a strong voice—prone to all manner of prolonged ululations—but not very good at communicating her intended meaning. Take your pick.  

And this piece evidently harkens of nineteenth century horror icon:

I write like
H. P. Lovecraft
I Write Like. Analyze your writing!

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