In my last blog post, I wrote about attending the Appalachian Writer’s Conference held at Berea College, but what I couldn’t announce then is that I won first place in the memoir category of the Appy Inkwell Writing Awards sponsored by the conference. Part of the prize for first place is publication with Martin Sisters Publishing!
As I’ve written in other blogposts, I made completing my memoir one of major writing projects of my first retirement year and accomplished that, but the opportunity to enter the Appy Inkwell Awards came up unexpectedly when I went to register for the Appalachian Writer’s Conference. I worked on polishing the first 2,500 words of the book and was quite pleased with the results, but what a surprise!
I celebrated the first-year anniversary of my retirement on August 1 and on August 3 received the e-mail saying that I had won!! I was so happy to tell the good news to my 88-year-old mother, the person who inspired me to write my teaching memoir shortly before I retired. What a thrill!
The awards ceremony came after three days of making new writer friends and learning so much about the craft and business of writing at the conference. Truly an amazing experience. I also enjoyed walking around the beautiful Berea College campus, talking with college students (one of the things I miss about teaching), eating delicious food, and traveling around the Kentucky countryside. I especially enjoyed traveling to New Castle, KY into Wendell Berry country. He’s one of my literary heroes!
Visiting Frankfort, the capital of Kentucky was a delightful spontaneous adventure. I had a good meal at the Cliffside Diner, walked around the city and the grounds of the capitol and took a trip to the Frankfort cemetery located above the Kentucky River to see the grave of Daniel and Rebecca Boone.
That day alone, traveling around the rolling hills and farmland of Kentucky before the conference and the awards ceremony, was a precious time of reflection, thinking about my life and my career. I remember in undergraduate school how I arrogantly tacked a note to the bulletin board on my dorm room door that stated I would be “Future Teacher of the Year and Winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature.” I never accomplished the first and am unlikely to complete the second, but I have had a grand career as a teacher and a writer. I may be officially retired, but I’ll never stop being either one.
Draper Hall, Berea College — By Parkerdr – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0
It’s getting real y’all!
On Monday, I leave for the Appalachian Writer’s Conference in Berea, Kentucky. It’s my first time going to Berea and the first time to this conference, so I’m excited. Two of my teacher friends attended and sing the praises of Berea College, which was the first integrated, co-educational college in the South and has not charged tuition since 1892. Wow! What a concept! The conference will be at the Historic Boone Tavern Hotel that stands on the grounds of the college.
What a great place to spend a week thinking about writing and higher education in the South as I work on my teaching memoir and attend sessions about composing, revising, editing, and understanding the business of writing. I also hope to take a trip up to New Castle, Kentucky to the Berry Center, dedicated to one of my favorite writers and educators, Wendell Berry.
Then, in October, as one of the highlights of my year as a Dramatists Guild Foundation National Virtual Fellow, I will finally get to meet the other fellows and our instructors face to face in New York City, where we will attend the Dramatists Guild Foundation’s annual gala among other activities. I have learned so much during this year and am so grateful for the opportunities to revise and add to my musical A Carolina Story and revisit my satirical work about education in Appalachia: CAMPUS. Getting to meet producers, agents, directors, and actors who are part of DGF is something I never dreamed possible until I became a fellow.
You can be sure that I will update you about both of these exciting adventures. Also, somehow, I will also edit and produce the 2024 Fall/Winter edition of Teach. Write., which now has a new subtitle: A Literary Journal for Writing Teachers. The publication date is still planned for October 1.
August 1, 2023, was my first official day of retirement. I left after 27 years of teaching at a small community college in western North Carolina. Officially, I retired early, but I say I ended my career right on time. Some may say that I was burned out or that I had quietly quit years before, and perhaps both are true. All I know is that I loved teaching, what it really is supposed to be, too much to keep trying to do it with little academic freedom or shared governance. I couldn’t remain in a place that cared more about enrollment and data than individual students and their learning.
Writing and editing, separate from the scads of e-mails I wrote and student writing I graded, are the things that kept me going the last few years of my teaching career. This blog, started in 2014, was the first place I regularly vented my frustrations at the negative changes I saw at my institution. But I also kept my spirits up by writing about teaching itself, some of my victories in the classroom, my memories of great teachers and wonderful teaching experiences I had.
Then, in 2017, after publishing another short story and having published dozens of theater reviews and feature articles for the local newspaper, I realized that risking rejection and criticism by putting my work out into the world not only helped me be a better writer, but it also made me a better writing teacher. I wanted to offer a special kind of professional development opportunity to other writing teachers and Teach. Write. was born. Editing Teach. Write. has been one of the joys of my life and is even better now that I have time to devote to its improvement.
However, even with the blog and the journal, the pressure was getting to me. The worst part of all was realizing how powerless I was to effect any change as I witnessed the autonomy that I had enjoyed at the beginning of my career begin to erode. So, I turned to a writing project that began as a musical but had laid dormant for several years–a satire called CAMPUS.
When it started getting particularly rough, I turned back to CAMPUS and decided, I think with the help of my wonderful daughter, that I wanted to turn my musical into a novel and keep the musical element alive by podcasting it with music. How? How would I do it? First, my daughter, a sound technician, did research on the best podcasting equipment, told my sweet husband, who bought the equipment for me as a Christmas gift. It wasn’t long before I was podcasting this crazy, satirical story about higher education at a small college in western North Carolina.
But not just any college. This enchanted campus has elves, gnomes, moon people, fairy godteachers, vampires, zombies, and a boojum–kind of an Appalachian yeti–oh, and a nazi. CAMPUS is definitely out there, but its weirdness has allowed me to say things I never could have said out loud otherwise. I produced about 13 episodes.
You can go and hear them at most podcasting platforms. Just search CAMPUS: A Novel That Wants to Be a Musical and you will find them. Don’t get too excited–the production value is low because I have no idea what I’m doing, but you know, I’m kind of proud of those episodes. I’m proud of myself for completing them, taking a chance. They helped me survive those last few years of teaching and the isolation of teaching during the worst of the pandemic years.
I want to get back to completing CAMPUS when I finish the other big writing projects on my plate right now, but until then, I will leave you with one of my favorite scenes from CAMPUS, when the discouraged, burned-out faculty makes their debut “Down at the Diploma Mill.”
DOWN AT THE DIPLOMA MILL
At that, in true musical fashion, a slow droning chant arose from across the quad as “They” began to come in. The slow heavy beat of the prison blues, the stomping of feet like the striking of a heavy hammer on a stake. THEM, teachers in ragged clothes and carrying old worn-out books came onto the quad. And they chanted:
ONCE WE WERE SOME BRIGHT YOUNG TEACHERS
ONCE WE WROTE ENGAGING LESSON PLANS
ONCE WE LOOKED INTO THEIR SHINING FACES
OUR STUDENTS WERE OUR INNOCENT LITTLE LAMBS
BUT NOW
BUT NOW
BUT NOW
CHORUS
WE’RE WORKIN’ DOWN AT THE DIPLOMA MILL
LOOKIN’ FOR SOME BRAIN CELLS TO KILL
WE NEVER MEANT IT TO BE THIS WAY
BUT WE GOT NOTHIN’ LEFT TO SAY
DOWN AT THE DIPLOMA MILL
ONCE WE HAD SOME GOOD IDEAS
ONCE WE TRIED TO CHANGE OUR WAYS
WE ALL SHUNNED STANDARDIZED TESTS
TRIED OUR BEST
TO NOT BE LIKE THE REST
BUT NOW
BUT NOW
BUT NOW
WE’RE WORKING
AT THE DIPLOMA MILL
WE’RE WORKING DOWN AT THE DIPLOMA MILL
LOOKIN’ FOR SOME BRAIN CELLS TO KILL
WE NEVER MEANT IT TO BE THIS WAY
BUT WE GOT NOTHIN’ LEFT TO SAY
DOWN AT THE DIPLOMA MILL
ASK AN ESSAY QUESTION
DO A PROJECT INSTEAD
BUT THE DEAN SAID IT WASN’T ASSESSMENT
WE SHOULD GET RETURN ON OUR INVESTMENT
IF IT’S NOT SOMETHING WE CAN CALCULATE
OR THAT’S EASY TO REGURGITATE
THEN IT’S SOMETHING YOU CAN’T DO
DOWN AT THE DIPLOMA MILL
The group begins to hum as they mount the stage and form a line of disgruntled burned out teachers. An old professor in a ragged tweed jacket with torn leather patches on the shoulder, holding a pipe comes to the mic. There is no sign of Dr. DAG. He’s gone off to Dog Hobble to that expensive restaurant only a few residents and the tourists can afford.
The old professor takes the mic as the group hums on. He speaks:
I’ll tell you what I want. Huh, come to think of it, what, exactly, do I want? I used to want to be published in exclusive journals, solicited to speak at prestigious conferences, overseas…in Europe…in Paris, all expenses paid. I wanted to be so valuable to the college I could thumb my nose at the presidents and VPs and deans and especially department chairs like Dr. C. J. Hamilton, who just had to lord over me his award-winning dissertation, the title of which he doesn’t let anyone forget– The Reawakening of Chartism and the Writings of Thomas Carlylse in the Post-Victorian/Pre-Edwardian Epoch.
Do you know what he said when I told him that I had my students all meet me at that great vegan restaurant in Asheville? He said it was stupid! Yeah. My innovative idea! A lot better than sitting around on a bunch of hard chairs in straight little rows listening to Dr. Hamilton drone on and on about Sartor Resartus and Queen Victoria’s increasing seclusion and her fat son’s sickening perversions.
My idea was great! We had a good meal, raised a few organic brews, and it was off to search for the famous O’Henry plaque embedded in the sidewalk near the cafe. We found it. I didn’t tell them that when O’Henry came to Asheville, he was a penniless drunk. How could I tell a group of 20-somethings in a creative writing class that I knew all their dreams would come to nothing?
But then we all drove together over to the Grove Park Inn to find the F. Scott Fitzgerald room. They all wanted to see the place where Fitzgerald didn’t write while he waited for Zelda to slowly lose her mind. We found the room, but I think we had all underestimated the effect of that many beers, organic or not, on our critical thinking skills. We had a hard time finding the room, and when we did and got in there… How did we get in there?
The concierge wasn’t too happy that we barged in on those German tourists. At least one of them was German because I recognized certain select vernacular. Anyway, before the burly one threw us out, I did get a glimpse around the room, a nice room, but ordinary, nothing special about it at all really. I mean why should there be? Fitzgerald just sat there, day in and day out, not writing and drinking himself into mind- numbing oblivion. On second thought, although I can’t tell you what I want, I can tell you what I don’t want. I don’t want to do this anymore.
All they did was ask me to do a 15-minute devotional at my church’s drama camp, 3rd-8th graders and young high school and college-aged counselors, but I felt like I was back in the classroom again. The camp leader said I should talk about perseverance and use our verse for the week–James 1: 2-4.
2 Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,[ a] whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.
I was ridiculously excited to put together this little lesson. Just like in the old days, I tried to consider my audience–a wide range of ages, more girls than boys, artsy theater kids, not easy to engage–a challenge. Yes!
The first think I did was choose a PowerPoint theme with some interesting graphics and give my talk a title. I chose a presentation template called Pheasant and called it “If at first you don’t succeed.” I know what you’re thinking, PowerPoint is so passe, how can that engage? What a corny title, how will that grab kids’ attention? I didn’t know how. I just went with my gut–just like in the old days.
First thing good teachers do is review, right? So, I reviewed the verse, emphasizing how perseverance helps us grow. Then, as an example, I did research on some young actors who went through adversity before they made their breakthroughs and settled on Millie Bobby Brown, who started trying to get commercials and roles at a very young age. She and her family were about to give up when she got the role of Eleven in the hit Netflix series Stranger Things, for which she won a Screen Actors Guild Award. My thinking was that trying to get roles and failing would resonate with kids who the day before had auditioned for the little plays we would do at the end of the week. Not all of them received the roles they had set their hearts own. My strategy worked. This rowdy bunch of kids were quiet, listening, engaged.
Next came the question for the audience: Have you ever failed at something? Raise your hand. Many of them raised their hands? Give me one word to describe how you felt? The answers came–sad, depressed, bad, heart-broken, mad. Just as in my classrooms before, I wanted my talk to be interactive. I continued to ask questions of the group as we proceeded.
The camp leader had asked me to share a little about my background as a playwright and writer, so in this context, I decided to share about my failures–how in 40 years of working to be published I had about 30 short stories published and four plays produced at a community college. If that sounds like a lot, I said, it isn’t. After about ten years I quit counting my rejections. I had reached 200 by then and since then had had hundreds more.
By this time, I could have heard a pin drop. I had them! I told them that none of that mattered. That success as a writer, an actor, a musician, is in the doing. I told them that I express my heart through my writing and need to write. I can’t not write, I told them. The striving and the working to become better and better makes the tangible successes that much sweeter.
Now was time for the pièce de résistance
I showed a short video of when Heather Dorniden, now Kampf, raced in the 600m, fell flat on her face, got up and came back to win the race. This part of the talk especially seemed to speak to the older girls; some of them were athletes, some had seen the clip before. But all the kids were mesmerized. You can see the race for yourself:
I had done some further research on Kampf and found an interview where she explained in more detail about the race and some of her experiences, good and bad, that happened in her running career after that incredible race. When I explained Heather’s background and the victories and hardships throughout her career, the point was made. The last slide read:
I don’t know if those drama campers will remember my talk, but I will never forget how this old, retired teacher felt that familiar fire as I looked into those young faces and could see hope and inspiration there. No, I don’t want to go back to grading endless comparison essays in overcrowded online classes or deal with all the bureaucratic and political crap I had to put up with over the years, but I sure do miss that feeling.
It was good to get it back once again, even if just for fifteen minutes.
You can order print copies of the 2024 Spring~Summer edition of Teach. Write. at Lulu.com. Here is the link. If you are interested in submitting to the journal for the 2025 Fall~Winter edition, please go to teachwritejournal.com to see the submission guidelines.
The publication of the print copy is always great, but one more exciting thing is coming up that some of you might be interested in, especially if you live in North Carolina. I’m going to be a guest editor at the North Carolina Writers’ Network spring conference. I will be one of the “Slush Pile LIve” panelist. I was honored that they asked me, and you can be sure that I will take copies of this most recent edition!
Many instructors are fearful about artificial intelligence and what it will do to student writing in freshman composition classes. I understand their concern, especially with the recent announcement about changes in Open AI’s leadership; however, it seems to be clear that AI is here to stay and is quickly changing the school and workplace landscape. Composition instructors, therefore, have a choice. Fight a losing battle or change the way they teach so as to meet the needs of students and their future employers.
If I were still in the classroom, I would seek to use AI in constructive ways. Indeed, AI may prove to be a boon to overloaded, overworked, and overwrought composition teachers, helping them deal with the heavy courseloads they are given. The answer, as indeed in most things, is engagement. Have a curious and playful attitude when using AI in the classroom, discussing the ethical implications along the way.
One assignment I thought might be useful is to introduce a common topic that students in general might find relevant to their lives. Work together as a class to come up with one or two paragraphs produced by Chat GPT. Then, discuss the positive and negative aspects of the paragraphs. Also, teachers might want to pursue a discussion of the ethical considerations of students using AI. When would it be appropriate to use it? When would it be harmful? Why would it be counterproductive to submit a purely AI-written essay in any college classroom?
I asked Chat GPT to come up with a couple of paragraphs on the topic of pros and cons of mandatory classroom attendance for college students. At first Chat GPT just gave me lists of pros and cons, which seems to be its favorite style of writing, so I asked it to write the pros and cons in paragraph form. Here’s what it gave me:
College Classroom Attendance: Striking a Balance
The debate over mandatory attendance in college classrooms revolves around finding a delicate equilibrium between engagement and autonomy. On the positive side, compelling students to attend classes can create an environment conducive to active learning. In-class discussions, real-time feedback from professors, and collaborative projects thrive when students are consistently present. The communal aspect of the classroom, where ideas are shared and debated, contributes to a rich educational experience. Furthermore, mandatory attendance fosters a sense of responsibility and discipline, essential skills that students carry into their professional lives. The structure imposed by attendance policies can guide students in time management and the establishment of a routine, skills that are beneficial beyond the college environment.
However, the cons of mandatory attendance are not to be overlooked. College is a time for individuals to explore their independence and learning styles. For some, this involves engaging with course material independently, through readings, research, and self-directed study. A rigid attendance policy may stifle this autonomy, impeding students from developing the self-discipline needed for lifelong learning. Additionally, external obligations such as work commitments or family responsibilities may clash with a strict attendance policy, putting undue stress on students. In such cases, the emphasis on attendance becomes a hindrance rather than a facilitator of learning. Moreover, there’s a risk that attendance policies incentivize mere compliance rather than genuine intellectual curiosity. Students might attend classes to fulfill a requirement, but the focus on attendance metrics does not guarantee a meaningful engagement with the subject matter. Striking the right balance between encouraging attendance and respecting individual learning styles and circumstances is a nuanced challenge for educators.
I would hope some of the following points would come up in our discussion:
Paragraphs are well-written with few writing errors.
A strong thesis statement begins each paragraph.
The paragraphs are well-organized and uses effective transitions.
The paragraph is logical and makes good arguments for and against mandatory classroom attendance.
One issue is the phrase “there’s.” I teach my students to avoid contractions and the use of the expletive “there is.”
The diction in general is too formal and sounds rather pretentious for a college-level paper. Really need to get rid of “incentivize” in the second paragraph. Yuck!
The paragraphs need to be fleshed out with specific examples and details, preferably from the writer’s own experience, some things that show the pros and cons more clearly and make the paragraphs more interesting to read. With good examples, these two paragraphs could be the basis for an entire essay.
Use this opportunity to talk with students about the importance of developing their own unique voice.
Another great thing to do would be to see if any students disagree with Chat GPT. What do students think about the logic presented in these paragraphs? Encourage students to “argue” with Chat GPT or “defend” it. Maybe have a classroom debate about mandatory classroom attendance. What ideas did the classroom come up with that Chat GPT didn’t include?
Another idea is to help students brainstorm ideas about topics that they are interested in, a process that is not always easy, I found. But asking relevant questions like how to pay for college without going into debt or managing mental health without medication might spark a student’s interest and inspire them to THINK FOR THEMSELVES.
How about even being brave and venturing into controversial topics, like the difference between banning and challenging books in public schools, transgender rights, universal health care, and Black history studies. Yes, I know, it can be scary, and administrators may not thank you, but remember that college is meant for adult learners, many of whom are already wrestling in the real world with all of these topics. Furthermore, using AI may help remove some of the fallacious reasoning some students use when writing about sensitive topics. In fact, try using Chat GPT to start a discussion about fallacies of logic.
The main idea is to get them to realize that all good writing needs their real-life experiences and their own critical thinking to add interest, for the reader, sure, but especially for themselves because writing that the writer doesn’t care about will be dry as toast and not worth anyone’s time. Give students confidence in their own ideas through lively, mediated debate, and then ask them to write, by hand, if possible, right there in front of you.
Total honesty. I wasn’t really looking forward to the North Carolina Writers’ Network fall conference as much as I have in the past. I’m not sure why, but I think the main reason was my inner critic. I guess sometimes I don’t think I deserve to call myself a writer. I know I am one, but, oh, I don’t know what I mean. I think I should have had a book published by now, I suppose. I have had many short stories published. I’ve had four plays produced, I blog, I edit and publish a journal, but….
But, but, but, but…why do I do this to myself?
Anyway, this is the way I had been talking to myself BEFORE the conference.
First, thing, though, I saw two writer friends whom I hardly ever see except at writing conferences. We talked about our writing, got caught up on life events, our families. We ate several of our meals together and chatted about what we learned from the sessions we attended. I always feel so much better when I get together with other writers. They get me. So, they totally understood why I was so happy to find out that my play “A Carolina Story” made it to the finals for the Dramatists Guild Foundation’s Virtual Musical Theatre Fellowship.
I was also glad I went because of the quality faculty. All my sessions were led by people with the knowledge, experience, and wisdom that I was looking for. Most memorable was the session on writing books of essays led by Patrice Gopo because it helped me get a breakthrough about how I want to structure Lessons, the teaching memoir/methods book that I’m working on. I can’t wait to read her book Autumn Song to see how she applied the techniques described in her session.
Another great thing that happened is I met one of my contributors. He walked up to me and introduced himself, saying how much he appreciated my acceptance of his work for the last edition of Teach. Write. Especially meaningful was how he thanked me for giving teachers an outlet for their work. Man, made me feel good.
Finally, I just had fun. I was relaxed. It was the first conference I attended without having to worry about checking work e-mail in between sessions or getting behind in planning classes, maintaining online courses, or grading essays. It was glorious to use my break just to walk around the little lake by the conference hotel on a glorious autumn day.
If you’ve never heard of the North Carolina Writers’ Network, then I encourage you to check it out. You don’t have to live in North Carolina to be a member. The thing I like most about it, as I rediscovered this past weekend, is that it is a true network of writers, and more than a few teachers, who teach and learn from each other, who understand the struggles and triumphs of the writing life.
Teach. Write.: A Writing Teachers’ Literary Journal is now available in print. If you are interested in purchasing a copy, click here. The online version is available now at my sister site, teachwritejournal.com. I am now open to submissions for the spring/summer 2024 edition. If you are interested in submitting, please see my submission guidelines.
Katie Winkler on Roosevelt Island–photo by Hannah Winkler
I haven’t written much since I’ve been busy with the journal, writing my teaching memoir, traveling to New York City for the first time, spending time with family, and welcoming a new fuzzy family member into our home, but I have much to write about, so I will be back soon with more musings and mutterings about education in the South.
The 2023 fall/winter edition of Teach. Write. is now available at teachwritejournal.com. I hope you will go take a look at this first volume I’ve produced since my retirement and since we’ve become members of the Community of Literary Magazines and Presses. The print version will be available soon. Onward and upward!
I am writing a book about teaching. It’s non-fiction, but other than that, I’m not sure how to describe it. It’s part memoir and part teaching methods to begin with. In many ways, it is also like my blog–musings and mutterings about my life’s work.
I don’t mind telling you, I’m struggling. It’s not writer’s block. Oh, no. I’m not sure I believe in writer’s block anymore anyway. The only way I’ve ever written anything of any length is to write six days out of seven. The biggest excuse for not turning in work I heard over my years of teaching was some form of “I’ve got writer’s block, Mrs. Winkler.” It’s hogwash, I would tell them. Well, no, I wouldn’t say it that way. After 40 years of teaching, one learns how to spin. I would dress it up with the appropriate metaphor, analogy, etc., but in the end my student was more than likely procrastinating and not even trying to write.
You can’t write anything, if you don’t write something. Hmmm, that’s pretty good. I wonder if I ever used that one in class.
So, again, no. It’s not writer’s block. The first day of my official retirement, August 1, I set a daily average quota for the book in order to finish a rough, rough draft by the end of the year. I’m well ahead of schedule in that regard; I haven’t had trouble writing pages and pages and pages. Because I’m not plotting (I’m a terrible plotter), the words, stories, feelings, and ragings about my life in teaching just pour out.
Frankly, my struggle is having a point. But, no, it’s not that either–I have so many points, so many things I want to say about teaching, that the book is just a hodge podge of memories interspersed with my concerns (aka fears) about what is happening in education, especially higher education in America, especially here in North Carolina.
Sometimes, I think I’m writing two books, but if I want to keep the memoir part intact, the part that reflects who I was as a teacher, how I changed, and why teaching was more than a career, if I want to do that, then maybe this mishmash of a book is exactly what I want to write.
However, I still feel that the book needs to have a central theme, something on which to hang all the dangly pieces, and entice the reader to hear what I have to say. Also, even though it faces the truth about the educational perils of our time, I want the book to be, overall, positive in its outlook as it promotes the intrinsic value of education.
I think I’ve got it now–at least the germ of an idea.
Education begins and ends with relationships–between student and teacher, yes, but it doesn’t end there–also between student and family, family and teacher, teacher and other teachers, teachers and administrators, administrators and staff, staff and students, staff and teachers, and civic leaders, business owners, the community at large, and, okay, you get it. Success in education depends on the health of all these relationships. I think my book already reflects that, but I want to strengthen that theme in revision.
One of the spires of Lincoln’s Inn, London, October 2015 photo by Katie Winkler
So far, my book not only reflects some of these personal relationships, but also the relationships between events of my life and teaching. A large chapter in the book, for example, is showing how my travels in America and Europe reflected themselves in my teaching. I also want to talk about the relationship between socio/cultural shifts and the classroom, how I had to adapt my lessons to new trends (after I got over being furious about them).
I’m not sure. I’m still struggling, but I’m not blocked. I’m not discouraged. I am practicing what I preached all of those years: “Just get started. Vomit.” Yes, I said vomit–always got their attention. “Vomit it all out on the paper and then start cleaning up through revision and editing.” That’s where the heart of good writing lies.
More about that later.
Other than writing the book, I have also been putting together the fall/winter 2023 edition of Teach. Write.: A Writing Teachers’ Literary Journal, which will publish Oct. 1. As I mentioned in my last post, the journal has its own website now! The spring/summer edition is there as well as submission guidelines and some other information. Why not take a look? Just go to teachwritejournal.com.
Hey, Mrs. Winkler! 