A week late, true, but here it is.  My presentation to the Utah Educational Library Media Association last Friday went as well as I could have hoped.  It’s always a bit nerve wracking to deliver a new presentation, and this was the first time I’d ever given this program on archetype and abandoning canon to develop narrative literacy in elementary schools.  The session was pretty well attended and participation was excellent.  We talked about parallels between Goosebumps and Great Expectations, then I broke attendees into groups to find archetypes in a variety of texts, and then I used that to jump into the theory.  The attendees seemed very pleased with the experience, which makes me pleased with it.  In the future I’ll be looking to give the presentation again to educators and librarians.  If that includes any readers of this blog who may be interested, contact me if you have an event at which you’d like me to speak.  And just for the record, either James or I is stalking the other.  You can’t keep crossing paths this frequently without someone putting in some effort to make it so.  I’m just saying.

Now a quick conference announcement: The American Fork Arts Council Conference for Writers is coming up.  Here’s all the information as I received it.

American Fork Arts Council Conference for Writers
Saturday April 24 2010 9 a.m. – 4 p.m.
Historic City Hall, 31 N. Church Street (50 East), American Fork
8-9 a.m. Registration
9-9:10 Welcome (Plenary)
 
KEYNOTES
9:10-9:40 Keynote #1 Ginger Churchill, “What I Wish I had Known as a Beginning Writer”
9:40-10:10 Keynote #2 Ally Condie, “My Journey to National Publication”
10:10-10:40 John D. Brown, “Aiming for National Publication”
 

INTRODUCTIONS of editors and authors
10:40-11:05 EDITORS: Derk Koldewyn, Granite

AUTHORS: Shannon Guymon, Linda Jefferies, Caleb Warnock
11:05-11:20 15-minute break
11:20-noon BREAKOUT ONE
Upstairs room “Crafting the Novel” with Shannon Guymon, John D. Brown
Downstairs One “Finding and Working With an Agent” with Ginger Churchill, Ally Condie, Caleb Warnock
Downstairs Two “Taking Your Questions about Publishing” with Deseret Book and Granite Publishing
  
Noon-1 LUNCH “Mix and Mingle with Authors and Editors”
 
1-1:40 BREAKOUT TWO
Conference One Derk Koldewyn of Deseret Book “What Deseret Book is looking for now”
Conference Two Ginger Churchill “How to Write and Publish Picture Books”
Upstairs room John Brown, “How to Write a Story That Rocks Part 1: First Principles & Story Concept”
Office room Caleb Warnock “10 Things Every Writer Should Know about Copyright”
Downstairs One Granite Publishing “What Granite is looking for now”
Downstairs Two Ally Condie “Writing Young Adult Fiction”
 
1:40-1:50 Ten-minute break
 
1:50-2:30 BREAKOUT THREE
Upstairs Room John Brown, “How to Write a Story That Rocks Part 2: Character”
Conference Two Ginger Churchill “Genres of Children’s Books, from Board Books to YA Novels”
Conference One Derk Koldewyn of Deseret Book “National Publication with Shadow Mountain”
Office room Caleb Warnock “How to Write the Query Letter”
Downstairs One Granite Publishing “Publishing Options with Granite”
Downstairs Two Shannon Guymon “How to Write Romance”
 
2:30-2:40 Ten-minute break
 
2:40-3:20 BREAKOUT FOUR
Upstairs Room John Brown, “How to Write a Story That Rocks Part 3: Plot”
Conference Two Ginger Churchill “How to be a Writer and a Mother Too”
Conference One Linda Jefferies “Writing Poetry”
Office room Caleb Warnock “Write a Synopsis? I’d Rather Gouge My Eyes Out!”
Downstairs One Ally Condie “Succeeding as an LDS author”
Downstairs Two Shannon Guymon “Writing Nonfiction”
 
3:20-3:30 Ten-minute break
 
3:30-4:10 BREAKOUT FIVE
Upstairs Room John Brown, “Writing Scenes: The Basic Units of a Novel”
Conference Two Ginger Churchill “Querying Agents and Publishers”
Conference One Linda Jefferies “Publishing Poetry”
Office room Caleb Warnock “Okay, You Were Rejected – Why, and What to Do Now”
Downstairs One “How to form a critique group that works”
Downstairs Two Shannon Guymon “Succeeding as an LDS Author”
 
4:10-4:20 PRIZE GIVEAWAYS, GOODBYE
 
REVISED (MAY CHANGE)

Two more bits of news to announce for writer in the Salt Lake area. 

First, the bad: it looks like there’s been some turmoil at UVU’s annual Forum on Children’s Literature.  I won’t go into the details as that might be airing people’s dirty laundry in public, but I will say that if any of you have registered to attend or were considering it, you may want to contact the organizers and demand information on all the changes.  My understanding is that everything from guests of honor to panelists and breakout presenters are up in the air at this point.  The conference also looks to be far smaller this year than it has in the past, and may shift its focus away from writing to education all but completely.  If you registered for this conference or are considering it, be sure that you find out exactly what the experience may be like.  It’s coming up in about two weeks, so you’ll want to look into it quickly, especially if you’re considering asking for a refund.

The next bit of news is far more pleasant, and is quite an opportunity: on March 10th from 6:30 to 9:30 p.m., Dan Wells, author of I Am Not a Serial Killer, will be presenting a workshop on Story Structure and Pacing at Weber State University.  The event will be held at the Hurst Center, Legacy Hall, and will cost $10 or $20 at the door.  I know Dan and let me assure you that he knows his stuff.  He’s easily one of the top writing craftsmen in the local area, no joke.  Taking a workshop from most other writers who are as capable as Dan could easily cost four times what you’ll pay at the door for this event.  If you’re working on your craft and can make it to the WSU area, it’ll be well worth your time and money. 

Next time something… well, I was going to say special, but I think I’ll stick with just something.  Hint in the form of a story problem: If Jane Austin is traveling from New York to Los Angeles at the pace of your standard barouche and collides with astrology in the midnight sky somewhere above Akron, what do you get?  

Just updated my calendar, so all these events that I’m taking part in are included there if you’re interested and want a reminder.

First off, tonight I’ll be talking to Rick Walton’s BYU class on children’s publishing again. The class is about breaking into the business, and having one book out for roughly nine months I’m sure qualifies me. I really enjoyed the last time I visited the class, and expect to do so again tonight.

Next up, I’ll be taking part in a pair of events next week. The first will be a visit to East Sandy Elementary school on Thursday, March 4th. I’ll do an assembly for 3rd-6th grades at 1:30 p.m. Should be fun, as always.

The next day, Friday, March 5th, I’ll be presenting at UELMA’s Spring Conference (the Utah Educational Library Media Association), which is being held at Mountain View High School (665 West Center Street, Orem, UT). I’m slated to present at noon (as is James Dashner, who somehow always seems to follow me around. I will need to think of a particularly biting joke about him to use in my presentation to teach him a lesson). The presentation is called Goosebumps, Great Expectations? Tomato, Tomaeto, Potato, Potaeto…: Why the only poor story is a story not read. I’ve put together what should be a really fun workshop on archetypes in narrative, why they exist, and how they undergird the importance of libraries as a place where children can develop narrative literacy without the impositions on reading that come from other areas of their lives. We’ll talk about archetypal theory and see it in action in a wide variety of texts, learn who fills the Darth Vader role in Pride and Prejudice, and stuff like that. Any school librarians considering me for a visit to their school are encouraged to attend the breakout session. It will give you a good idea of what I have to offer as a teacher and presenter.

Finally, a pair of events on May 15th. In the morning I’ll be conducting a two-hour workshop on characterization and triple-duty writing (come to the workshop to see what that is) for the League of Utah Writers’ Spring Workshop. I’ll be holding the workshop from 9 – 11:00 in the morning. The event is free for League members, though I promise the experience will be worthwhile even if you have to pay. (Joining the League for $24 a year is cheaper, and well worth it for any local writer.) I’ll give more information about venue and other contributors when I learn more.

After the workshop, I’m driving to Provo to take part in the Provo Library’s Annual Provo Children’s Book Festival. I believe that I will be reading from Green Dragon Codex in the afternoon, but I’m not sure when. Of course, I’ll let you know as soon as I do. This is a great—and FREE—event, so anyone interested in children’s literature really should be there. The list of participants is just fantastic. When you start with names like Brandon Mull and Shannon Hale and don’t go down much at all from there, you know it’s going to be a quality experience. Also, those who know me are aware that I don’t do many readings, especially of my work for children. (Though I’m not too shabby at it, if you’re worried about that.) If you want to hear me read from GDC, this may be your only chance in the near future.

Finally, I try to announce other writing events in my local area when I hear about them (and when I remember to pass along the message). I’m not participating in this one this year, but the 2010 Teen Writers Conference is being held on Saturday, June 5th, at Weber State University. This is a really cool conference focused on encouraging teenage writers between the ages of 13 to 19. Josi Kilpack is kind of the driving force behind this conference, and she and other organizers have lined up a fantastic list of presenters and instructors, many of whom are good friends I respect a lot. If you’re a teen who writes or is interested in writing, or if you know such a person, please let them know about this event. It’s really a great opportunity for professional level instruction very early in a person’s development as a writer.

Tangent:…

(Tangent from the tangent: If one is of a schizophrenic persuasion, chasing impulse and flighty ideas like a dog spinning at cars on the freeway, is any thought really tangential? It’s not like we have a strong, solid baseline from which to diverge. Well, back to the initial thought.)

Isn’t it cool that storytellers rule the world? I find that truth to be totally awesome, to use a Dashnerism. (Dashnerism: noun—A word used with great frequency by James Dashner and which is, without exception, completely incongruous with the world of Jane Austin, unlike James’s name; common Dashnerisms include “totally”, “awesome”, and “totally awesome”.)

What do I mean? Simply that story is structure, as William Goldman says. This doesn’t mean that screenplays include three acts or that novels wrap up with a denouement, no more than consciousness means having the physical ability to sense the outside world. The truth is so much greater and grander and unfathomable than that. The structure of story is nothing less than meaning; story is the interrelating of stuff (anything really) in such a way that relevance can be drawn from the raw material of life, thought, and imagination.

I’ve been thinking about this since teaching an adult learning class on writing last night. (Thanks to Brenda Bench and her class for an interesting and enjoyable evening, as always.) The presentation was on using POV to achieve the three objectives of story simultaneously, and I got to talking about how we can only make sense of anything by incorporating it into a story. Here’s an example: China has a population of about 1.2 billion; the U.S. population is around 300 million. So tell me what that means. No, “China has more people that the U.S.,” doesn’t count. That’s like saying red and blue are different colors: meaningless. Can’t do it, can you—at least, not without placing these numbers into a story, such as: Because of their massive workforce, China will supplant the U.S. this century as the world’s greatest economic power because of its power; or, as environmental destruction and global climate change continue to intensify, China’s massive population will result in far greater negative consequences than the U.S.’s smaller citizenry, which is why China will not overcome the U.S. as the world’s dominant economy. One story is the story of environmentalism, one is of means of production. What are these, really, but perspectives or points of view and the narratives that go along with such?

No fact matters in isolation, only in conjunction with other facts. The structure of aligning information is story. Story is the substance of who we are as individuals, cultures, religions, nations, and even as a species. With that being so, a storyteller becomes something a good deal more than the proverbial daydreamer detached from things that really matter. We’re more akin to superheroes, possessed of mystical powers to manipulate reality according to our desires and designs. All the truly influential individuals in history have understood this or have benefited from someone who did, whether politicians, scientists, artists, business people, philosophers, or whatever. History isn’t just written by the winners; the meaning of life and its substance is created by the tellers of tales.

Which leaves only one question: am I, Clint Johnson, also known as R.D. Henham and a slue of less respectful appellations I won’t mention, a superhero or supervillain? There is a certain romanticism about being bad….

May one be a  super-anti-hero? Now come on, there’s no way a question that important could be considered tangential.

When you work at a college and travel in academic circles you come across quite a few people for whom teaching is a distant plan B from plan A (writing), some of whom—not many, thankfully—make perfectly clear that their fondness for plan B is no greater than plan Q.  I find this genuinely sad.  While storytelling is my prime passion and writing my medium for expression, and I consider these my profession, in many ways the opportunities I have to teach are just as important to me.  In some ways, certainly more important. 

Thursday night I was reminded of this when I spoke to a chapter of the League of Utah Writers.  I talked about networking, and people participated by asking questions, sharing stories, and making comments and recommendations.  Like just about every instructional event I do, it was constructive and fun for me, as I hope it was others.  I don’t have to try very hard to hope that, though, because of the expressions of appreciation and gratitude that followed the presentation, that night, here on my blog, and elsewhere.  It’s very easy to convince yourself you’ve done something helpful when other people tell you so.  And I can’t recall a single workshop or panel I’ve ever participated in that people haven’t thanked me for.  I share this not merely to acknowledge the many kind people I get to meet, but to admit I’m just beginning to see how important this all is to my advancement as a writer.  I don’t mean by broadening my name recognition and interest in my writing, though that is certainly true as well; for me, teaching others is a large part of what makes the writer’s life—my life—happy.

There are pitfalls for writers, like any artist, some darker and deeper than others.  Addiction to self-destructive vehicles of distraction is always nearer than we think.  Every good story goes places that no healthy person would ever want to travel emotionally; to get the story there, the writer has to go  as well, if only in their mind.  It’s no wonder that individuals who emotionally confront the darker aspects of human experience rather than retreat from them sometimes cope unhealthily.  But not every pit is so insidious.  Some, like feelings of rejection and loneliness, are common to all humans.  It’s just that, for writers, these pits are so broad it’s incredibly difficult—if not impossible—to avoid them for much of your life. 

Writing is, mostly, a solitary art.  So is the contemplation it involves, the ruminating and daydreaming and asking yourself innumerable questions to which you have no answers.  Success doesn’t change that.  In a way, it only makes it worse.  There is a special kind of loneliness in fame (a supposition of mine, as I’m as far from famous as one can get); in being marked and noted by mobs of people, none of whom know you at all beyond the brand you’ve come to embody.  There is no escape, not completely.  When you decide to become a writer, to do it full-hearted and regardless of cost or condition, you reconcile yourself to being a lonesome kind of person.  Rejection is just as inescapable.  In a flux so great as that of written story, where every person has the potent birthrights of language and narrative affinity; where these potentials tie together into a unique, subjective, and lovely snarl that we call a person;  where mastery is so impossible you may write your whole life and send your skill not a jot higher but only sideways—in such a place, how can any of us expect to write and not be rejected, under appreciated, and misunderstood?  It’s a great and terrible truth that every person is a mystery, even to one’s self.  When we bump against each other in passing there is zero chance that our rough edges will always fit together.  The best work we will ever do—could ever do—will not please all people.  Sometimes when it does not, we will hear about it.  We will hear. 

Agents, editors, those who publish our work to world, they don’t want to reject us.  But they will.  Many, many times, they will.  

We don’t desire to be away from people, alone and apart, to make our stories breathe.  But we will be.  For too much of our lives, we will be.

We can’t help but feel these things.  I certainly can’t.  Which is why, as much as any other reason, I love to teach.  It fills my writer’s life with those things it so desperately lacks: society instead of solitude; mutual edification rather than private refinement; gratitude and immediate returns rather than form letters, criticisms, and the hollow ticking of the clock.  If you are like me, a writer and storyteller for better and worse, then I offer one heartfelt suggestion: share that.  Teach.  Find something you know and do well and help others to know and do it too, still their way, only a little better than before.  I have no doubts that your career, your quality of life, and your entirety of person will all improve if you do.

On Thursday the 19th I’ll be conducting my first full-blown assembly at Bell View elementary in the south Salt Lake area. Don’t know if any of you have kids that attend this school, but if so tell them to let me know that their parents are particularly astute and interesting (characteristics shared by all frequenters of this site, I’m sure).

Beyond Bell View, the next six months look to hold a number of such visits, so keep your eye on this blog. There’s a distinct chance that if you live in the Salt Lake and surrounding areas that I may be coming to your kids’ school. Also, if any of you are interested in observing a school visit (many of you may be planning to do your own sometime in the future), just let me know and I’ll invite you to an event. Give me a few times to get the program down and I’ll be happy to let people see what I’ve come up with.

As for the “something” in this post’s title, do any of you ever wonder what exactly is poetry? One of the many, many random thoughts that continually ricochet through my head is, I think, an odd attempt to answer that question. (Do any of you have spontaneous definitions or semantic explorations just shoot through your heads? If not, how weird are you?) Here’s what popped in there this time: the semantic exercise which turns blunt tools (words) simultaneously sharp and squishy. If anyone knows what that means, please let me know, because it has me awfully curious.

Oh, and just a reminder to come see me Monday at the Layton Barnes and Noble at 7:00 for my free workshop.

Just finalized today: I’ll be conducting a full two-hour version of my most popular workshop, Conflict and the Mechanism of Story, next Monday at 7:00 pm in the Layton Barnes and Noble (1780 North Woodland Park Drive, Layton, UT).  The event is being held by the Wasatch Writers chapter of the League of Utah Writers and is free to all who would like to attend. 

Anyone interested in storytelling (even if you aren’t a writer) who hasn’t attended this workshop really should consider it.  It’s quite different from most other workshops on writing or story that you’ll ever attend in that it tackles how components and facets of narrative work together in a systematic way for effect.  If the system isn’t right, the story isn’t right, and too often we talk about and teach writing by addressing facets or elements in isolation.  Every single time I’ve given this workshop at least one person has come up to me afterward to say that I either helped them solve a problem in the story they’re working on or helped them improve the story by taking it someplace they never would have reached alone.

I’m firmly convinced that anyone, regardless of natural talent, can write great stories; I’m just as convinced that the way to do so can be taught.  For those who are interested in learning—for free—drop in next Monday.  If anyone wants, I’ll also sign copies of GDC if you bring them or buy them that night.

When GDC came out a few months ago, I thought I’d get some copies in the SLCC bookstore.  It isn’t often–or ever, to my knowledge–that employees of the college have had nationally published novels to their name.  I assumed the bookstore would be ebullient to sell a homegrown masterpiece.  Instead, I found them… what’s a mix between indifferent and disdainful?  Well, whatever the word, it described them fairly well.  Eventually, they gave me the standard arrangement for self-published authors: twenty books bought on consignment for sixty days.  Basically, they were covering themselves in anticipation of selling no copies, and after sixty days of indulging me would tell me to take my wares elsewhere.

After two months, they were out of copies.  That changed things. 

So, I just got back from the bookstore, which bought ten more copies—this time not on consignment.  Apparently, they are no longer worried about being able to sell copies.  Can you tell this post has been written in a little bit of smug mode?

I just can’t help it.  I found out today that people have been stealing my book from the bookstore!  While this may not exactly be ethical, I find that really cool.  Now, it’s cool whenever people read my book; it still stuns me a bit that this is so.  It’s even better when people think enough of the book to buy it.  Best of all is when people tell me, in that special shallow-breathed enthusiasm, that they loved the book.  But there’s something special about knowing that people out there consider my book important enough to break the law to attain.  There’s something very charming about the thought of dashing thieves willing to live on the lam for the sake of great literature—or bizarre kids stories about dragons colliding with cows, however you characterize GDC. 

Anyway, I thought it was cool, and it made me happy.

My report:

The LUW’s Annual Roundup was, as always, well worth participating in.  The best part—other than seeing old friends and meeting some new ones—was the location.  It was the first time I’ve been to the Homestead in Midway, Utah, and it was the most pleasant conference setting yet.  The Homestead’s rooms are located in lodges and largish cabins scattered about the grounds, which gives the place a distinctly European feel.  They even have a natural hot spring ninety feet deep inside a stone chimney, which I think was called the Crater (very cool), though I didn’t do more than view it.  (Other guests went swimming.)  My room was large and comfortable, and the meals were of unusual quality.  The best attribute of the Homestead, however, was it’s natural setting.  Every outdoors glance was rewarded with peaked mountains with forested sides dappled in yellows and reds from the onset of autumn.  The drive to and from the conference was thus an unexpected highlight of my weekend.  I’d forgotten how magnificent fall leaves can be.

As for the conference itself, my workshop went about as I expect, which means I am pleased with the results.  People thanked me heartily for teaching it and asked many questions afterward, which is always a good sign.  I think we sold out the bookstore’s stock of Green Dragon Codex as well.  (No complaints there.)  I spent much of my free time with some friends, including Eric Swedin (writer and professor at Weber), James Dashner (children’s and YA author, whose The Maze Runneris coming out on Oct. 6th, so buy it because it’ll be great—and who is neither particularly dashing nor a Jane Austin character, despite the misleading nature of his name), and Heather Moore (LDS fiction writer and professional editor).  I also met some great people for the first time, including a woman named Taffy, which configuration was a first for me (for the record, a man named Taffy would also have been a first).  Got some marketing pointers from Richard Paul Evans and learned the Sandra Dallas is a very smart and very funny woman, which is always a great combination.

So, I’m glad I went and I am glad that it is over.  And anyone who attended my workshop, if you enjoyed it, I would greatly appreciate a short recommendation.  Thanks!

Oh, an interview I gave to akgmag.com (a free site for and about writers) should be available soon.  When I know when, you’ll know.

Two major projects all but done, and now on to a third (after writing this blog post while watching Magnum P.I.), while a fourth stays on the horizon for the moment.

This morning I finished revising and editing the sample chapters for my newest proposal package. Overall, I feel pretty good about the work I’ve done. The book is clearly YA, a little older than my most recent children’s novel, which was itself a little older than Green Dragon Codex.  (I have a feeling that middle grade is a stretch for me, or at least for my much-cherished stylistic and content extremes.)  The one thing that does worry me a bit about the sample chapters is the length of the first chapter: 6,000 words.  (The next two chapters come in a touch lower combined.)  That’s a long chapter for a YA book, and an especially long first chapter.  My worries are alleviated somewhat by confidence that it’s a really good 6,000 word first chapter that happens in stages, and so should work out just fine—I think.  And to be honest, there’s just no way I see to cut it into sections or to cut it down more than I have.  I’d rather have it be longer than strategy dictates than kill the living story.  So, barring major issues raised by an alpha reader or two, the chapters are ready to stand out.

I’m even more relieved at finishing the second project: the first of my two presentations for the literacy conference in Idaho.  I’ll probably polish things a bit more, but the PowerPoint is done.  Now, any of you who know me—and some of you do—know that I don’t like PowerPoint.  No, that isn’t exactly correct.  I loath PowerPoint.  I often say I’ve never witnessed a PowerPoint presentation that didn’t malfunction in some way, ruining any sense of professionalism the program may have enabled.  Why am I doing this then?  Kicks, I guess.  It isn’t often that I address general educators (rather than teachers of writing specifically), which has left me feeling somewhat the prophet, responsible for crying narrative salvation in the educational wilderness (it’s startling how unimportant storytelling has become in many classrooms).  Because of this, I’ve done more research and work than was perhaps necessary for the occasion.  I doubt most attendees will expect the child’s author to run them over with educational theory complete with citation—but that’s what they’ll get, at least for much of the presentation.  Hey, I’m arguing for the killing off of the canon (or at least for its significant demotion).  I thought I’d better have a lot of smart people on my side to make that case. 

As of today, I feel I have that.  And I’m glad to be moving on to something else.

That something really isn’t much of a project, either.  I’m just refreshing myself on the workshop I’ll be presenting Saturday at The League of Utah Writers’ Roundup.  (2-4:00 pm I believe, for anyone who’s attending.)  I’ve done this workshop more often than any other, so it shouldn’t take more than an hour or so tonight to brighten up all the material.

As for next on the docket, that’ll be the second presentation I’m giving for the literacy conference in Idaho.  A lotta research; a lotta PP slides; a lotta hassle; a lotta theory behind a controversial claim (that writing fiction is a uniquely effective way to teach meta-cognition).  Uberfun. 

Hope to see some of you at Roundup.