As we approach the 2008 Workshop, I thought it might be helpful to troll for perspectives on the value of the Clarion experience, and how to think of it.  Two particularly interesting perspectives come from alumni Nicola Griffith and Richard Paul Russo.  They parallel each other, with Nicola providing the short version and Richard a longer, more detailed version of the same thought.

Nicola’s quote comes from her website, in an interview that she labels “Colorado” dated “sometime in 1998.”  As part of discussing her background, she notes, “Clarion didn’t teach me how to write–the only way to learn to write is to write–but it showed me how it might be to be a writer.”

In a May 2000 email interview with Richard Paul Russo, Nick Gevers at Infinity Plus, noting that Russo had described Clarion as a “turning point,” asked, “Was it crucial for personal reasons, or because the course imparted good technical literary counsel? Or both?”  The response:

Primarily personal, though you could say both, given a broad enough definition of “technical literary counsel.” It has always been difficult for me to articulate what I learned and discovered at Clarion, because it has more to do with the approach to writing than it does with concrete “rules” or “guidelines” of the craft itself, though those are important as well. I did gain some technical knowledge about the craft of writing, but the most critical thing I came away from Clarion with was an understanding and acceptance of what it would really take — personally — to become a good writer. An understanding of both the personal honesty and the true commitment that were necessary.

I learned that having a facility for language and beautiful writing were not enough if there was no story underneath it all. And I learned that not just any story will do — I need to dig deep inside and find a story that matters to me on some level, that I am convinced is worth telling. Because if the writer doesn’t believe the story is worth telling, the story will not be convincing to the reader. Additionally, I came to appreciate the need for being open to criticism while at the same time having enough self-assurance to stick to my guns when I feel specific criticism is misguided — a fine balance, but a crucial one to strive for. Most of all, I learned that not only do individual stories need to be approached with seriousness and honesty, but writing as a whole — as a career or vocation — needs to be approached with the same sense of honesty and purpose, discipline and dedication.

How, exactly, I learned all this at Clarion is unclear. It was more experiential than anything. After Clarion, I stopped writing completely for over a year. I was assimilating the experience, assessing my own life, my motivations and desires, thinking about writing in general terms. When I began to write again, my stories were significantly better — not just in technique, but in some overall sense. In the years before Clarion, I’d had a large number of stories rejected, and one mediocre story published. In the years since Clarion, I have sold nearly every story I have written (though some were drastically revised and re-submitted before I sold them). That’s also when I began writing novels, and I’ve published every novel I’ve written as well.