question!
I haven't done a meme in ages. I asked shashalnikya for five questions, which I answered below.
Ask me for five questions (in comments) and I shall supply them.
1. If you could travel anywhere at all right this instant, where would you go? Why?
Memphis, I suppose. There are a lot of Memphians (and Southerners who are fond of the city) up here at my residency, and they've piqued my interest. Also, it's surprisingly cold in Vermont, and it's probably nice and warm down there. And I've always wanted to see Tennessee. Oh, and they have no open container laws in some neighborhoods.
2. Who is the first writer who ever inspired you?
That would be "Franklin W. Dixon," whome I later learned was the collective nom-de-plume of whomever wrote a Hardy Boys novel. I would use my school library allotment in first grade to take out two HB books each week. I read one per afternoon and was thus totally stuck for the remainder of the week. Mystery stories are the first things I tried to write. This ended badly, of course.
3. Are most writing courses actually useful to take?
It depends almost entirely on the teacher (not always within your control) and the students (rarely within your control.) So I suppose they're like any academic course.
The most useful things you are guaranteed to get from any writing class are assignments, deadlines, and a compelling non-artistic motive to write. You become, in an isolated way, a professional writer under contract: you're not paid, but you are graded/literally given credit. You have little control over your assignments (good) and, as I say above, your editors (potentially horrible). But you walk out with words you put on the page.
Topic-wise, the more specific, the better: a memoir course is better than a non-fiction course is better than a creative writing survey course. Specificity attracts interested and expert people.
If I may offer a still-more cynical rule of thumb, introductory writing courses are rarely helpful to your writing, but they do teach you how to take a writing class.
4. What is the most hilarious thing that you've ever seen happen during a baseball game?
Well in terms of hilarious to me, it was hard to beat the game we saw in Tokyo. Apparently, when someone throws the ceremonial first pitch in Japan, a batter actually stands in the box. So of course, this poor Japanese Little Leaguer winds up and plunks the batter. It was such a Curb Your Enthusiasm kind of awkward humor. Much, much loss of face.
Stateside, I'm still fond of the stadium ad at St. George (Staten Island, NY, short-season-A). It was advertising a Doo-Wop Concert, but half the display was burned out, so it just said "Wop Concert." Chomsky might observe that no meaning was lost per se.
5. How did you get in to pipe smoking?
Thing is, I've always dug pipes and tobacco. My parents use to take me into the Owl Shop in New Haven when I was just a little toddler... it's one of my first concrete memories, because it's so tied to a very specific smell. They didn't smoke; they just wanted me to soak up the atmosphere. (Papa Doc is a big Sherlock Holmes fan; some of Mom's ancestors were cigar rollers.) At the Caldor, the tobacco kiosk was right next to the snack bar, so again, the smell of sweet tobacco and soft pretzels is what I have instead of Madelines for my Recherche.
When I was in high school, we went to Disneyworld, and Main Street USA still had a tobacconist, and my parents bought me my first pipe, a figural meerschaum--for collecting, not for smoking at that point. The next summer, at my arts camp, I did a scene from Billy Bishop Goes to War, and my friend/teacher loaned me his briar pipe to use as an all-purpose prop (pipe/pointer/throttle).
Even so, I didn't really smoke a pipe until a few years ago, when I was at a teaching retreat in the Adirondacks, and someone said, "Let's go to the general store and get corn cob pipes!" And we did, and with all that subconscious weight, something clicked for me, and I never really turned back. Pipes and tobacco are just right for me: a collection, a meditation, a bit of history, a little difference.
There's a great essay which ends with the thesis, "Why do I smoke a pipe? Because I am a pipe smoker." That's definitely how I feel.
Ask me for five questions (in comments) and I shall supply them.
1. If you could travel anywhere at all right this instant, where would you go? Why?
Memphis, I suppose. There are a lot of Memphians (and Southerners who are fond of the city) up here at my residency, and they've piqued my interest. Also, it's surprisingly cold in Vermont, and it's probably nice and warm down there. And I've always wanted to see Tennessee. Oh, and they have no open container laws in some neighborhoods.
2. Who is the first writer who ever inspired you?
That would be "Franklin W. Dixon," whome I later learned was the collective nom-de-plume of whomever wrote a Hardy Boys novel. I would use my school library allotment in first grade to take out two HB books each week. I read one per afternoon and was thus totally stuck for the remainder of the week. Mystery stories are the first things I tried to write. This ended badly, of course.
3. Are most writing courses actually useful to take?
It depends almost entirely on the teacher (not always within your control) and the students (rarely within your control.) So I suppose they're like any academic course.
The most useful things you are guaranteed to get from any writing class are assignments, deadlines, and a compelling non-artistic motive to write. You become, in an isolated way, a professional writer under contract: you're not paid, but you are graded/literally given credit. You have little control over your assignments (good) and, as I say above, your editors (potentially horrible). But you walk out with words you put on the page.
Topic-wise, the more specific, the better: a memoir course is better than a non-fiction course is better than a creative writing survey course. Specificity attracts interested and expert people.
If I may offer a still-more cynical rule of thumb, introductory writing courses are rarely helpful to your writing, but they do teach you how to take a writing class.
4. What is the most hilarious thing that you've ever seen happen during a baseball game?
Well in terms of hilarious to me, it was hard to beat the game we saw in Tokyo. Apparently, when someone throws the ceremonial first pitch in Japan, a batter actually stands in the box. So of course, this poor Japanese Little Leaguer winds up and plunks the batter. It was such a Curb Your Enthusiasm kind of awkward humor. Much, much loss of face.
Stateside, I'm still fond of the stadium ad at St. George (Staten Island, NY, short-season-A). It was advertising a Doo-Wop Concert, but half the display was burned out, so it just said "Wop Concert." Chomsky might observe that no meaning was lost per se.
5. How did you get in to pipe smoking?
Thing is, I've always dug pipes and tobacco. My parents use to take me into the Owl Shop in New Haven when I was just a little toddler... it's one of my first concrete memories, because it's so tied to a very specific smell. They didn't smoke; they just wanted me to soak up the atmosphere. (Papa Doc is a big Sherlock Holmes fan; some of Mom's ancestors were cigar rollers.) At the Caldor, the tobacco kiosk was right next to the snack bar, so again, the smell of sweet tobacco and soft pretzels is what I have instead of Madelines for my Recherche.
When I was in high school, we went to Disneyworld, and Main Street USA still had a tobacconist, and my parents bought me my first pipe, a figural meerschaum--for collecting, not for smoking at that point. The next summer, at my arts camp, I did a scene from Billy Bishop Goes to War, and my friend/teacher loaned me his briar pipe to use as an all-purpose prop (pipe/pointer/throttle).
Even so, I didn't really smoke a pipe until a few years ago, when I was at a teaching retreat in the Adirondacks, and someone said, "Let's go to the general store and get corn cob pipes!" And we did, and with all that subconscious weight, something clicked for me, and I never really turned back. Pipes and tobacco are just right for me: a collection, a meditation, a bit of history, a little difference.
There's a great essay which ends with the thesis, "Why do I smoke a pipe? Because I am a pipe smoker." That's definitely how I feel.