Interview Brian Griffin and Dawn Reno’s Online Creative Writing Class

Dawn Reno: I'm online . . . if you are, too, check in on Yahoo for info about how we're going to run this chat.

Betsey: Hello everyone. I work for Sarabande and will be sitting in on the chat today. My only suggestions are to ask one question at a time, making sure to give Brian plenty of time. I'll let you know when time is running out.

Betsey: If you all would like a copy of the transcript e-mailed to you after the chat, please be sure to register with us.

Tegan: Hi everyone.

Dawn Reno: FYI to my students: I'll be calling on you randomly to ask your questions, so pay attention and be ready :-)

Tegan: Hi Betsey.

Dawn Reno: Hi Tegan!

Betsey: Hi Tegan.

Dawn Reno: Tegan, We're obviously waiting for the other students and for Brian, so if you have any questions for Betsey or me, feel free to ask.

Betsey: Everybody, make sure you set the "Auto Refresh Setting" to 10 seconds, and click "Set!" Thanks!

Brian: Greetings from Knoxville, Tennessee, home of James Agee, Cormac McCarthy, Nikki Giovanni, and the guy who played "Goober" on the Andy Griffith Show. Any questions?

Betsey: Hi Brian...welcome!

Dawn Reno: Hey, Brian, how are you?

Tegan: Hello Brian.

Brian: Hi Dawn, Betsey. I'm swell. I have a cold but I'm full of Sudafed

Nikki: Hi everyone

Dawn Reno: I didn't know Nikki Giovanni was from Knoxville.

Dawn Reno: Hi Nikki.

Russ: ead

Dawn Reno: Sorry about your cold, Brian. We'll try to make this as painless as possible. I believe Tegan has the first question. You can start, Tegan, and Nikki, you'll go second, then Russ.

Tegan: How do you determine what to write for the setting off in the distance that makes the story flow? Such as in Sparkman in the Sky, "From there Sparkman can see cattle on the rolling hills below, the curving road as it ducks into the thin stand of hickory, the community college on the other side of the trees, and of course the trailer…" And it goes on describing the trailer. Do you take that from what you have seen in a similar town?

Brian: Okay, Tegan, hold on...

Brian: Details of setting come from memory, really, but memory filtered through the mechanism of writing a story that will communicate with a reader. As a writer I MUST take a reader somewhere and show her something, and what I choose to do that -- to create the illusion of place and story and character -- probably always comes from memory. Even if I sit outside and look at a barnd and describe it on paper, I am really working from memory -- in that case, only a few seconds old.

Brian: Detail cannot be invented, only selected -- from memory, which is the world, really.

Nikki: Brian, is it hard to come up with ideas for your short stories?

Dawn Reno: Good point, Brian. Your turn, Nikki.

Brian: Oh, that was "barn" -- not barnd.

Nikki: Brian, is it hard to come up with ideas for your short stories?

Brian: okay Nikki, hold on

Nikki: Brian, is it hard to come up with ideas for your short stories?

Laura L.: Hello everyone.

Dawn Reno: If anyone is here in the chat who hasn't "announced" their presence, please do so. I need to line you up for questions.

Dawn Reno: Laura, you can ask your question after Russ.

Brian: Coming up with ideas for stories is not really hard, though carrying the ideas through to a finished product can be very hard. All the great stories have already been written, really. Ideas are everywhere -- all around us, in our past, and in books. The trick, really, is to make stories fresh, and to do that, you filter them through your own unique experience. If you can do that, you can tell, say, "Hamlet" over and over, and it still will seem new.

Howard Freeman: Howard Freeman is present. Hello everyone.

Dawn Reno: Howard, you can ask your question after Laura.

Russ: Whats with the ending to soem of your stories? The way they leave the reader to come to their own conclusion. Do you use that alot and why use it?

Brian: I think there are two kinds of conflict that can work in any story -- conflict that is internal to a character and conflict that is rooted in the events of the story. I've found that if a reader is to feel satisfied, one or both of these conflicts should be resolved by the end of the story, but the other can be left hanging. For example, in the title story, the events are clearly not over, but I think the main character has made a decision -- and that decision is, in my mind, a resolution of a conflict that has carried the story up until that point. Other stories work in a similar way, I guess.

Brian: Also, I have a pet peeve -- I think that stories that tie themselves up in pretty bows at the end are boring and often false.

Russ: isnt all fiction false

Tegan: I agree with that. I think that if it ends up neat it is not true to life.

Brian: Yes, all fiction is false, but it purports to show the reader a mirror of the "real world," whatever that may be. And to the degree that some stories fail in that, they are false -- that's what I meant by that comment.

Brian: Fiction creates an illusion of reality. That's the most we can expect of it. And if it succeeds, it illuminates the world in ways that no other art form can do. That's why I write.

Howard Freeman: What do you mean by pretty bows?

Brian: Next question

Russ: sweet

Brian: Oh, Howard -- sorry...hold on

Brian: "Pretty bows" was just a short-hand way of saying that some fiction rushes to tie up every loose end so that all conflict is resolved, no matter how minor. Look at your own life and you'll see that things just don't happen that way in the world we all inhabit. If fiction is to create a mirror of the world as we know it, I think it must embrace life's chaos as well as its sudden and unexpected perfections.

Brian: Next

Laura L.: What do you feel is the best way to open a story? Should it jump right into action or slowly move the reader into understanding what is happening. I like the way you brought an animal into an opening, it caught my attetion.

Brian: Okay Laura, hold on...

Brian: There is no best way to open a story, just as there is no best way to write one. Eudora Welty wrote that each story defines its own course, just as a comet traces its own unique path through the sky. That said, I think getting the reader's attention early on is important, and sometimes jarring the reader a bit -- just a bit -- will cause them to want to read on. One way to do that is to start "in medias res," because such a beginning has inherent mystery that should intrigue a reader.

Brian: Another way to hook your reader is to appeal to all five senses in the opening of the story -- smell taste touch etc. Try it sometime. It will force you to write in new ways.

Brian: next

Laura L.: okay thanks

Howard Freeman: When you werewriting Big Ash, did you plan for the big hole left after the removal of Big Ash, to symbolize the void in Newt's life after Karden"s death? Do you plan symbolizm?

Dawn Reno: Great idea about using all five senses in the opening, Brian -- I'm going to have to use that.

Brian: Excellent question, Howard.. Hold on..

When I began writing that story I had no idea what I was trying to do. It began when I was sitting outside one afternoon watching some workmen cut down a large tree. I started writing when I returned to my office, and suddenly this character came to mind, and things just started rushing in and onto the page like water running down a mountainside, bringing stuff with it. So no, I did not plan that symbolism. The symbolism -- that is, the meaning of the tree -- came from the action of the story that followed the writing of the tree-cutting scene. When I wrote the scene, I was just writing a scene. I had no idea what it meant. In fact, trying to discover what it meant was what caused me to write the story the way I did. I wanted to make sense of it. In the tracing out of the narrative line I gave that opening scene the meaning it now apparently has. It was a wonderful surprise to me.

Tegan: Neat.

Brian: I'm not sure symbols can be planned -- at least I can't do it, anyway.

Brian: Next

Nikki: I notice you pay a lot of attention to detail of the settings and characters in your stories. Do you think that a short story needs a lot of detail to be good?

Brian: Okay Nikki...

Brian: If I can't see it, I don't like it -- that's how I am as a reader. I think the best stories cause the reader to SEE the action, to feel it, to experience it almost in the same way that we experience the action of a movie. That's a tall order, of course. All you have to work with are words. But I've found that attention to detail is vital if we are to bring our reader into the imaginary world we are asking him to inhabit. John Gardner said vivid detail is the lifeblood of fiction, and I agree. It's the stuff that makes everything else work.

Brian: What's amazing is that it works at all. Annie Dillard said the written word is weak. Compared to all the crud spewing from the media these days, I think she's right. It IS weak -- and refreshing, too. Wed Oct 2, 2002 4:51 pm
Eric: Your stories are very descriptive, painting pictures. But how do you know when to describe something and when to leave it out. In "Big Ash" when Newt was talking to the neckties and he looked down at the mop water, that kind of distracted me from what was happening in the scene.

Brian: Okay Eric

Brian: There's no answer I can give you that will work, but this: revision. Endless revision. The idea is that the "movie" you are trying to project into the reader's mind should be as vivid and continuous as possible, and to "know" that can only come from reading what you have written and asking yourself: is this vivid? Is this not? It takes lots of practice, and that's not a big proble, really, because it is also a lot of fun. The scene you mentioned may well be an error -- perhaps that should be cut out. But we do our best, and relying on your friends to get started is not such a bad idea. Share your work and listen to what people say. Revise, revise.

Tegan: What do you keep in mind in trying to make a story into something as easy and fluid as telling a story to friends around a campfire? When I read your stories it almost seems like I’m sitting there with you and you are telling the story to me. I liked Big Ash by the way, and I thought that the turning on and off of the sound was a good symbol even though it might not have been intended.

Brian: "proble" should be "problem"

Brian: next

Brian: Okay TEgan

Brian: Thanks Tegan -- I take that as a high compliment. I think part of the answer to your question is implicit in what I said already about revision. Endless revision. Another part of it is patterns of saying: listening to how the words sound when read aloud. I think in my writing I almost unconsciously imitate the patterns of speech that I grew up with. I can't help it. I just do. Try reading your work aloud sometime and see what it sounds like.

Brian: That should read "Another part of it HAS TO DO with patterns of saying"

Brian: Next

Tegan: That sounds like a good idea, thanks

Russ: is it my turn?

Eric: What did she ask?

Brian: Whose turn?

Dawn Reno: Is there anyone who hasn't asked a question?

Tegan: What does he keep in mind when writing a short story to make it sound fluid.

Russ: where?

Tegan: Eric

Brian: Yeah, Tegan -- that's the one I just answered, I think.

Russ: heh heh heh

Tegan: I was telling Eric what I asked.

Dawn Reno: Nikki, you've only asked one question. You can ask another. Howard, if you're still here, I think you had other questions, as well.

Dawn Reno: While we're waiting, Brian, why not tell us what you're working on now.

Brian: I've just sent a revision of my novel (3 years in the making ) to my agent, who I'm sure will send me back a big wad of cash. The novel is about the civil rights movement, and it is called WHAT KILLED MEDGAR EVERS. It is a portrait of a racist narrated by a 10 year old boy.

Jennifer Johnson: hi guys. sorry I'm late. Had to work. Are we still chatting?

Brian: It sounds drearier than it really is.

Brian: I've

Russ: I can get 10 bucks big money maker?

Dawn Reno: That sounds really interesting, Brian. I'd love to read it. If you need some feedback, I can offer it.

Dawn Reno: Hi Jennifer -- Yes, we're still chatting. If you have a question for Brian, ask it quick. We're almost done.

Brian: I've also just written a new story about botulism for a food anthology. It's called "Those Who Ordered the Salmon Patties," narrated by a waitress who sure is sorry about what happened.

Brian: Any more questions?

Dawn Reno: HA!

Dawn Reno: I'm sure that one was written tongue-in-cheek.

Tegan: That's funny.

Brian: Thanks Dawn. I'll keep that in mind. Any questions?

Dawn Reno: Come on, students. Last chance to ask those burning questions!

Eric: Do I have time to ask another question?

Nikki: In "Sparkman in the sky" the ending was a little vague. Did you write the story that way for the audience could make their own interpertations of the story?

Brian: Okay Nikki

Betsey: We have about ten minutes left.

Brian: At the end of Eudora Welty's "A Worn Path," her main character, who has just had an amazing journey through the woods, turns around to retrace her steps, this time at night. The story ends there, but it works because we can see that somehow, this woman (her name is Phoenix Jackson) has already won a terrific battle just by making it that far. What happens next is, well, up to the reader, I suppose, but is fully informed by the strenght of the character created by Eudora Welty. I was trying something like that at the end of "Sparkman." A sequel, I suppose, would have him in an ambulance on the way to the hospital -- but he'd be HAPPY, I like to think.

Brian: That should be "strength of the character," not strenght

Brian: Another

Brian: ?

Dawn Reno: Eric, you had a question, didn't you?

Jennifer Johnson: I don't know if anyone has asked your or not but were any of you stories written from life experiences?

Eric: I noticed many themes in your stories such as the orange sky/tent/hangglider in "Sparkman In The Sky". Do those come about usually before you write the story, along the way, or in the revisions?

Howard Freeman: My computer going on and off. I would like to ask another question. Who published your first story? What was it's length. Sorry I lost the last 10 minutes of the chat.

Brian: Most of what I write about in fiction happens in the process of writing. I rarely scope a lot out in advance, and on those rare occasions when I do, I usually ignore my outline and do something else. Everybody's different, of course, so how I do it may not be right for you. But I think it important to open yourself up as a writer to the unexpected things that your characters can do, and can cause you to do. The PROCESS is the main thing for me, I think.

Brian: Oh, I just noticed Howard

Betsey: We need to be wrapping up soon!

Brian: My first story in print was in Shenandoah, and it was about 18 typewritten pages. My first story to be accepted (it came out after the Shenandoah one) happened this way: I received a long handwritten rejection letter that listed lots of suggested revisions. While I usually take such things seriously, these didn't make much sense to me. It dawned on me that they really wanted to publish it but couldn't because they didn't have room in their latest edition of the magazine. So about 2 weeks later I sent the exact same copy -- not a word changed -- to the same editor with a note that said, in its entiretly : "Thanks for the comments. Try it now." And they accepted it and published it.

Nikki: Do you get many ideas for your stories by observing the world around you?

Brian: I guess it is time to go, eh? And I'm just warming up.

Brian: Nikki: Yes. Too many ideas.

Dawn Reno: That's the last question we can take . . . our time is up. THanks to all of you for showing up.

Brian: Most of them boring.

Russ: word up

Dawn Reno: We'll post the chat in its entirety soon so we can read it and share with the rest of the class. Good night, Brian. Feel better!

Brian: Thanks folks, it was fun.

Betsey: Thank you everyone! Dawn, I'll e-mail you the transcript. Bye!