(no subject)
...I've had a reminder tonight of exactly why I left academia. Writers' group was supposed to be holding a poetry writing workshop. It turned into part-lecture, part-tutorial about poetic theory, the nature of meaning and the audience-as-author, with a little bit of biographical/historicist material for good measure. Roland Barthes got mentioned >.< I was so angry; we did only two practical writing exercises, neither of which were particularly inspiring or interesting (one was that old "write one line and pass it on" chestnut) and ugh the woman just talked and talked and talked *rolls eyes*
At least it made me appreciate what my writers' group is usually like. Everybody is down-to-earth, talks like regular human beings, and is focused on the practicality of actually writing rather than this airy-fairy literary theory guff. So glad that I'm part of the Tuesday night group; the guy who brought up Barthes goes to the Monday night group and the others who go on Mondays also strike me as being prone to "academic" pretensions.
At least it made me appreciate what my writers' group is usually like. Everybody is down-to-earth, talks like regular human beings, and is focused on the practicality of actually writing rather than this airy-fairy literary theory guff. So glad that I'm part of the Tuesday night group; the guy who brought up Barthes goes to the Monday night group and the others who go on Mondays also strike me as being prone to "academic" pretensions.