THOSE WHO CAN’T TEACH, DO.

By Kevin Paul Tracy

This is not going to be a popular opinion with a lot of people out there, including many aspiring writers.

In answer to the question, "Can you teach someone to write?" my answer is yes...and no.

I firmly believe you can teach someone to write, but you cannot teach anyone to be a writer.

I've said for many years, everyone has at least one story to tell, and I mean it - absolutely everyone has at least one story to tell. Telling that story is one thing. Telling it well - in the sense that the words are spelled correctly; the grammar is structured according to current norms; the characters are built according to the latest personality tropes and types; the plot follows standard forms and formulas; the narrative utilizes the prescribed forms of metaphor, simile, and exposition; and the arc of conflict builds, climaxes and resolves as it should - can be taught to someone willing to learn. These are all critical building blocks to fiction we all need to learn, but if this is all you have, I've read these stories, and all I can say is, "Yawn!"

Learning to weave a tale like a fine but tattered fabric is nothing that can be taught, it can only be felt. Writing is passion, writing is pain, writing is one of the most intimate acts of self-exploration, and in some cases self-destruction, there is. But more than anything else, writing is love. Writers love stories, love the written word, love to read as much as write. Until you've tried to continue typing through the fog of your own tears, you've never written anything. Until you've read and re-read a passage, unable to believe that you wrote something so beautiful, you've never written. Until you've chewed your nails until they bled while waiting for your favorite reader to finish your latest chapter and tell you what they think, you haven't written.

Ouroboros WormWriters love the story. They embrace it, swaddle it in a way only a parent who holds their own newborn child could possibly understand. Their own favorite writers, novels, characters, and stories are as known to them as boon companions, loved by them like family, cherished by them like the unrealized dreams of childhood. Writers keep a copy of an obscure book or an otherwise critically panned movie for the one line of dialog or piece of narrative that speaks to us. I, myself, keep a copy of the flawed and largely disregarded "The Worm Ouroboros" by E.R. Eddison because the over-the-top scene setting and narrative descriptions tickle my sense of author self-indulgence and narrative excess.

Finally, writers will understand what I'm trying quite poorly to say in this article. Anyone can teach you to write, but no one can teach you to be a writer. That is something you must discover within yourself entirely on your own, if it is there to be found.


Don't miss Kevin’s latest releases: the startling and engrossing series of gothic thrillers featuring vampire private detective Kathryn Desmarias, including Bloodflow, and Bloodtrail, the bestselling sequel to Bloodflow; also the wonderfully entertaining espionage thriller, Rogue Agenda.

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Growth

by Pamela Nowak

The other day, I began working on my presentation for two upcoming conferences and a thought slammed through me. Ten years ago, I wouldn’t have even imagined myself in such a position.

Ten years ago, I wasn’t published. I had—finally—placed in and won a few contests after years of attending critique group, entering again and again, and plugging away at rewrites. At that stage, I was “getting close” and my critique partners were telling me I would sign a contract “any day now.” Still, I hadn’t crossed that threshold. I didn’t think I’d learned enough, and I certainly didn’t think I had anything to share in front of conference attendees.

I remember my first conference…twenty years ago. Twenty years ago, I sat in awe of the presenters. And, here I am, preparing a presentation…my tenth one, I think. Growth is an amazing thing!

But growth doesn’t occur in a vacuum and it doesn’t occur without effort. It doesn’t happen because one calls oneself a writer for a few (or more than a few) years. It doesn’t appear because one claims membership in a few writing groups. And it doesn’t get bestowed upon us just because we tinker around with writing and call ourselves writers.

Growth happens when we practice our craft, when we put our work out there and allow others to give us feedback. It occurs when we listen to critique and learn from it. We grow when we read books and observe what others are doing. We stretch ourselves each time we attend a conference or a workshop or class with the attitude that we will gain something from it. There is always a technique or tool that is new, another layer, a unique way of seeing an element of craft if we open our minds to seeing. We need only recognize that our work always needs improving and look for ways to make our writing better.

I find, even in preparing for the workshop, that I am growing. Each element I prepare to share with others leads to more growth of my own writing. As I glean examples to share with attendees in my session, I realize there are techniques I need to apply more often to my own writing.

And as I recognize that, I renew a promise to myself. This year, in all I do and in every conference I attend, I will look for ways to grow and things to learn. Whether it be in socializing with old friends, interacting with attendees as a presenter, or seeking new knowledge while sitting in the audience at a workshop, I will open myself to learning all I can and growing further.

Join me?