Western Book Events

Aspen Summer Words Fest: Southern Lit, Secret Hopes and a Surprise Stand-In

By Jennifer Lee Sullivan, Guest Writer, 7-14-10

	Elizabeth McCracken, one of the featured writers in this year's festival.

Aspen Summer Words Festival
Where: Aspen, Colorado.
When: Annually, in June.
What: Sponsored by the Aspen Writers Foundation, a program of the Aspen Institute, the Aspen Summer Words Festival features writing workshops, consultations with writers, editors, and agents, and readings by nationally-recognized writers.  Each year’s festival has a different theme; this year’s was “Crossroads: A Literary Intersection of the American South.” For the past two years, the Colorado Book Award winners have been announced during the festival.
Cost: $150-$200 for a 5-day festival pass, $175-$550 for various workshops. 

Jennifer Lee Sullivan, a Boulder-based participant in this year’s festival, offers her report on the events.

Writers, both famous and those hoping to be, gathered at the 34th Aspen Summer Words literary festival, which took place June 20-25.

This year, the morning writing retreat offered workshops across several genres, taught by such literary luminaries as Elizabeth McCracken (Advanced Fiction), Robert Bausch (Advanced Fiction II), Edward Carey (Fiction), Dana Goia (Poetry), William Loizeaux (Memoir), and others. The Readers’ Workshop was to be led by Richard Bausch; when he had to cancel at the last minute, the the Aspen Writers’ Foundation, presenters of the fest, replaced him with none other than award-winning author Dorothy Allison – giving you an idea of just how deep their bench is.

The afternoon literary festival featured talks by accomplished faculty, invited authors and other literary professionals. This year’s festival focused on Southern writers, and included a video appearance by Ernest Gaines, winner of this year’s Aspen Prize for Literature, as well as a live appearance by Kathryn Stockett, author of the recent No. 1 New York Times bestselling novel The Help. Stockett, it should be noted, is straight out of central casting, a real-life Southern belle whose years in New York City did nothing to diminish her delightful lilt or muss her perfectly-coiffed hair. She told a packed house about starting to write her novel in lower Manhattan in the days following 9/11. Communication with the outside world was shut down and she created her central character, Abilene, by channeling the comforting voice of Demetra, the African-American maid who worked for her family for decades.

Part three of Aspen Summer Words, often referred to in reverent, hushed tones, is the “Consultations.” For a fee, participants can meet with agents and editors to receive feedback on their work, a portion of which they submit ahead of time. Although everyone is cautioned against expecting to land a deal, everyone hopes to. Those who sign up for consultations are the only people around on edge, and the only people dressed up. A few people did in fact get signed this year, and these people were instant celebrities, the subject of awe and finger pointing all week long.

Anyone gorging on this smorgasbord of literary pleasures will come away full, with memories of their own favorite morsels. Here are mine:

The Memoir Workshop

Upon learning of my acceptance into the memoir workshop in mid-April, I began having vivid daydreams of what the week would entail. I imagined an instructor brimming with literary insight and talented and engaging classmates, who would become new sources of inspiration and provide valuable feedback on my memoir-in-progress.

The real thing was better than my dreams, except for the part where I didn’t actually lose 10 pounds or get a new wardrobe from Anthropologie.

Our instructor, William Loizeaux, teaches at Johns Hopkins University and is the author of, among other work, two memoirs, Anna: A Daughter’s Life and The Shooting of Rabbit Wells. Bill has a way of blending motivation, encouragement and hardcore advice into bits of quotable wisdom, which we students dubbed the “Aspen magic.” When discussing how best to find direction in our writing, Bill advised us to “follow your own juice.” In other words, write the subjects and scenes that have the most urgency; they will come alive. In response to our despair over the difficulty of publishing in the memoir genre, as well as questions about how to improve our chances, he returned our focus to the work itself.

“There is no substitute for the thrust that comes from you. If there is something you have to write, then you damn well better.”

For my part, the Aspen magic has propelled my nascent draft memoir from one-quarter to two-thirds completion within the two weeks since class. That shot of adrenaline alone was worth the price of admission.

Elizabeth McCracken

Since I’ve already confessed it to her, I don’t mind telling you that I am a little bit in love with Elizabeth McCracken. I eyed her students with jealousy and cornered her on the first day of the festival to blubber something about my affection. Happily there were several chances to hear her speak. During a talk entitled “Stranger Than Fiction,” about what separates fact from fiction, she was asked about the importance of being truthful in memoir. Instead of taking the safe, post-James Frey position of “very,” she offered a more nuanced response:

“You have to be true to yourself, and some people are liars.”

McCracken was joined in the session by Loizeaux, who discussed the hazards of the memoir form. In discussing the nature of memory, Loizeaux noted there are different levels of accuracy and that it is important to let the reader know what level you are operating on. For example, by beginning a sentence, “I imagine this discussion went the way their conversations usually did...,” you tip the reader off to your use of surmisal and informed imagination to describe events you did not witness firsthand. McCracken elaborated on the importance of surmisal, stating that it is suggestive of a mobile imagination, which makes a narration interesting and larger than one person’s point of view. She added that, as a reader, books that get at the nature of memory are as vivid and as meaningful as books written immediately after an event, citing as an example the memoir Firebird by Mark Doty.

In confronting the danger of solipsism, Loizeaux challenged writers to consider “how to write a memoir that opens outward, that is interesting to others.” He encouraged writers of the form to explore big human issues, to offer glints of humor, and to refer to events occurring in the world outside during the private moments recounted in the memoir. Loizeaux also suggested the use of research when available, noting that some of the best of memoir recounts how the writer’s perception changed about a certain event by doing research on it.

The Long and the Short of It

In this talk, Elizabeth McCracken and Robert Bausch gave readings from their artful short stories and shared wisdom about the art of the short story. They agreed that “baggy, forgiving” novels are the easiest form, while short stories the hardest. While neither could provide a precise definition of the short story, McCracken observed that “all great short stories lead to a complexity of afterthought.” She noted that her short stories are guided by instinct and intuition; they radiate out from an idea, whereas novels require conscious thought and an architecture. When asked about their methods for writing short stories, Bausch said he has no single pattern; he has used every approach. McCracken, on the other hand, “has never outlined anything in my entire life.” Bausch encouraged the audience to keep attending craft talks, for the sake of thinking through the writing process. 

Voices of the South

In this spirited panel discussion, authors Dorothy Allison, Randall Kenan and Ron Rash offered their views on the genre of Southern literature. Randall Kenan opened the dialogue by questioning whether there is such a genre; “there are many Souths,” he said, some so disparate it is hard to place their writers in the same category. Ron Rash noted one hallmark of “Southern” literature is a love of language, by which he meant “a love of saying something in a way that is memorable.” The rest of the discussion was an illustration of this point.

Rash recalled a family anecdote involving a female relative, a Union sympathizer, whose horse was confiscated by a purported member of the Confederate Army. As the horse thief walked away whistling the Confederate theme song, the woman called after him, “You’ll be whistling Dixie in hell come morning.” The legend goes that the man was found dead the next day, the horse back in its stable.

Of the suggestion that Southern writers like Flannery O’Connor are known by the use of violence in their work, Rash acknowledged the presence of violence in her work, but focused on its purpose. In O’Connor’s work, he said, “violence was not an end in itself, not mere titillation.” Rather, she used it to “reveal the essence of characte...of what it means to be a human being.” Allison, whose own characters encounter their share of violence, nodded in agreement but added, “I don’t mind titillating, though.” Allison encouraged writers to mine their most embarrassing moments, their most shameful acts and memories.

If you can do that, she said, “that will make you as a writer.” Sounds like homework to me.

John Wesley Harding’s Cabinet of Wonders

The last evening of the conference featured a variety show orchestrated by musician and author John Wesley Harding. This was a rare treat, combining Harding’s musical and entertaining skills onstage with readings by (you guessed it) Elizabeth McCracken, Edward Carey and Column McCann, as well as performances by Throwing Muses’ Kristin Hersh, country-folk-punk rocker John Doe and comedian Eugene Mirman. I annoyed friends and family alike for several days following this show by repeating, in a horrid faux-British accent, Harding’s introduction of his pal the Irishman: “Most people can’t, but Column McCann!”

Aside from my slight hangover, Friday felt like the last day of summer camp. I didn’t cry but I wanted to, so sad to see this star-studded week of literary inspiration draw to a close. I’m already saving my pennies for next summer. 

Jennifer Lee Sullivan is a writer, mom, and lawyer who lives in Boulder. Her nonfiction has appeared in Self Magazine and various legal publications; her fiction has appeared in Word Riot. Her blog, www.jenniferleesullivan.com, was recently named a finalist in Creative Nonfiction’s narrative blog post contest.

Are you interested in reporting on a Western literary festival?  Please send an email to NewWest Books & Writers Editor Jenny Shank, jenny@newest.net.

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