March 6, 2014 § 3 Comments
Select seat with view of lectern. Check.
Push Voice Memo button on phone. Check.
Scribble panel title in notebook. Check.
I’m ready. So are the five panelists facing me, and so are the 60+ audience members surrounding me. We are the researchers in Room 607.
“It’s a bit of an oddball role,” began moderator Ana Maria Spagna. She described the ethical challenges experienced while researching Test Ride on the Sunnyland Bus, in which she explored her late father’s involvement in the Tallahassee bus boycott of 1957. The various people to whom she spoke had different and sometimes conflicting versions of the story, “as well as their own real lives and real pain,” she said. The crux became how to respect those peoples’ privacy, integrity, and culture: “How could I honor their stories and still tell some version of the truth? How could I characterise my relationship with them, because on one hand, these were friends of my late father, and on the other hand, they were subjects of a potential book?”
Many different writers have faced these challenges, said Spagna. “And they’ve approached them — necessarily — differently, both in terms of craft and in terms of ethics.”
Joe Mackall, author of Plain Secrets: An Outsider among the Amish, describing how he framed his intentions with his insular Amish neighbors — “I told Samuel I just wanted to write the truth as I saw it.” Invoking Gay Talese’s “fine art of hanging out,” Mackall told his Amish neighbors, “I’m going to hang around so much that I’m not going to leave on my own accord. So you need to tell me, ‘enough.’ They never did. I was exhausted.”
Amanda Webster, discussing her work in progress, a book about growing up in a gold-mining town in West Australia, attending school with members of the Stolen Generations, Aboriginal children removed from their families by the Australian government — “In Australia, a white person writing about personal Aboriginal stories is typically taboo. Story ownership was a real issue for me.”
What Webster learned:
- Establish your authority to tell the story, and once established be aware that it’s not unassailable authority.
- Establish your stake.
- Be aware that your role is not to provoke further trauma.
- Be mindful of Aboriginal customs.
- Not to plunder these peoples’ lives and then disappear without a trace.
Webster also explained her rationale for and methodology in paying some of her research subjects — “Ultimately, it came back to the refrain we always hear: as writers we should be paid for our work. Shouldn’t these story subjects be paid for their work as well?”
Both Mackall and Bob Cowser Jr. (Dream Season: A Professor Joins America’s Oldest Semi-Pro Football Team) expressed their reticence to change names during the writing process. They acknowledged it was necessary but preferred to completely finish their manuscripts before doing so. “It breaks the spell for me,” said Cowser, “I don’t know who to care about, or where the ground is under me.”
Jo Scott-Coe, author of Teacher at Point Blank: Confronting Sexuality, Violence, and Secrets in a Suburban School, describing her efforts — “I took a great deal of time to shade identities, particularly with the darker material, of which there is quite a bit,” she said, adding that she avoided names by identifying teaching staff by role, and family members by relation. Despite the camouflage, there were readers who recognized themselves.
What she learned:
- The ethics of where or how to camouflage names
- When people react negatively or angrily, it’s not always to debate. Often it is because you have expressed a connection or perception that they disagree with, or that they find offensive, or that they didn’t expect to be expressed by you.
- Essayists cannot always anticipate these reactions, and they’re not always ours to control or evade.
- We are not always in the service of a predetermined message. We don’t know what we will discover.
All of the panelists agreed that the most important “contract” they had with their research subjects was to let them read and vet what they had written.
“Ultimately,” said Scott-Coe, “our byline is our accountability.”
Ann Beman is nonfiction editor for The Los Angeles Review, and prose reviews editor for the museum of americana. She lives with her husband and two whatchamaterriers in California’s Southern Sierra in Kernville on the Kern River, Kern County. Cue the banjoes.
June 17, 2012 § 4 Comments
Houston, we have lift-off, and landing, and three winners for our immersion nonfiction contest celebrating Robin Hemley’s new craft guide, A Field Guide for Immersion Writing: Memoir, Journalism, and Travel.
We were unsure how many would participate — immersion in 500 words sounds like a contradiction if not an impossibility — but we were wrong, as usual, and received 50 splendid entries, all of them surprising and unique.
Immersion, by the way, is defined as involvement in something that completely occupies all the time, energy, or concentration available. Types of immersion writing within these broad categories include: the Reenactment, the Experiment, the Quest, the Investigation, and the Infiltration.
Now Robin has judged, and we have our three winners. We will debut their winning entries right here on the blog over the coming week. Stay tuned!
April 9, 2012 § 20 Comments
To celebrate Robin Hemley’s new book, A Field Guide for Immersion Writing: Memoir, Journalism, and Travel, we are launching a quick contest. You have one month, until May 11th, to immerse yourself, in something. If it is water, be sure that you can swim. If it is honey, watch out for bears.
Here are the details:
For centuries writers have used participatory experience as a lens through which to better see the world at large and as a means of exploring the self. Immersion writing encompasses Immersion Memoir (in which the writer uses participatory experience to write about the Self), Immersion Journalism (in which the writer uses the Self to write about the world), and Travel Writing (a bit of both: the writer in the world and the world in the writer). Types of immersion writing within these broad categories include: the Reenactment, the Experiment, the Quest, the Investigation, and the Infiltration.
Immersion, by the way, is defined as involvement in something that completely occupies all the time, energy, or concentration available.
So, choose one of the immersion modes and knock yourself out, except we are only allowing you 500 words.
Yes, you heard us right: 500 words, or fewer.
Robin Hemley, Director of the Nonfiction Writing Program at Iowa, and celebrated author, will be the judge. First prize is a copy of A Field Guide for Immersion Writing: Memoir, Journalism, and Travel and $50, second prize is a signed copy of the immersive The Accidental Buddhist, and third prize is a showercap. All three winners will be published on the Brevity blog.
Deadline May 11th, 2012. Mail your entries to brevitymag(at)gmail.com with Immersion as the first word in your subject heading.
November 18, 2008 § 2 Comments
My friend* Eric Parker interviews my friend* Lee Gutkind over at the website Fresno Famous.
As well as founding and editing the magazine Creative Nonfiction, Lee is a major practitioner and proponent of the branch of creative nonfiction called “immersion journalism,” with roots in Capote and links to Kidder and McPhee and Susan Orlean. Lee knows more about “immersion” perhaps than anyone else teaching right now, and has some excellent guidance and observation in the full interview.
A quote: “… that’s why immersions are so wonderful in that you walk into an immersion having an idea, idea A, but by the time you’ve spent three months or six months, you have a new idea, or a different formulation of your idea. Then, if you spend another year or two, your idea sophisticates and focuses even more. So, it’s a constant balancing challenge to make sure that you are giving the subject the proper attention.”
*(As a side note, it is continually fascinating how small the literary world seems when you’ve been knocking around in it for twenty years or so. I met Lee many years ago as a student in Pittsburgh; and came to know Eric just this past summer in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. The six degrees of separation game in the writing world sometimes seems too easy — it should be one or two degrees of separation.)