28 December 2011

Youthful Plays: The Child in the Basket

My mum left this in my room the other day. It's the playscript I wrote for a Traverse Theatre Open Day workshop in 2001, at which point I must have been around eleven. The fantastic thing is that the lovely people at the Traverse have typed it up as a proper playscript, in a nice folder with their lizard logo and all the trappings.

The Child in the Basket by James (T) Harding
As I remember this workshop, my parents took a friend and I along as a nice day out. There was a competition for under twelves to write a scene in a hot-air balloon, and the best one was to be performed by the Traverse company. The friend won, and I didn't speak to her for a week.

With hindsight, I can understand a lot better why I didn't win. I think the script suffered from being too subtle, like much of my work, and would have taken them too long to rehearse.

Here is my offering in its full glory. I can only hope that the work I'm producing for the Traverse at the moment as part of their Young Writers programme is of a similarly high standard.

The Child in the Basket
by James T Harding

Two men and a child in a hot air balloon basket

CHILD (Addressing audience) That's pa and his friend over there (pointing) - completely bonkers

MAN 1 Now now, Elizabeth. That is no way to talk to your dad!

CHILD It is said as though he can listen - but he is stone deaf

MAN 2 But I can lip read, so there miss clever clogs

MAN 1 Shall we throw her overboard / WE should float higher that way!

MAN 2 Pardon?

Man 1 and Man 2 lift child up by the front and back legs and singe her as if to throw her overboard.

CHILD Noooooooooooooooooo I'm to young to die!

MAN 1 She has a point, you know

MAN 2 One, two, three and throw

Child is thrown offstage

MAN 1 I though she was your daughter

MAN 2 Why did you say I was deaf?

MAN 1 I didn't

MAN 2 Yes you did

MAN 1 No I didn't

At this point the child appears from inside the picnic hamper

CHILD Yes you did

MAN 1 & 2 No he didn't

14 December 2011

Should Creative Writing Degrees Exist?

As an ex-music student, I am often confronted with the argument that as no one questions whether music and other skill-based arts can be taught, why should they question creative writing degrees?

I believe this argument misses the point. The question, for me at least, is not whether creative writing is a teachable skill, but whether it's appropriate to give degrees in it.

I was reminded of the writing course industry last month by Oxford Today magazine, which is an alumni magazine from my alma mater whose main purpose seems to be to make people feel all glowy about having been to Oxford and illicit donations from them. Despite this rather cynical editorial stance, the magazine does often have good articles in it and this month features a creative writing competition with "simply fabulous prizes" including a fountain pen and "a 250g bag of Bolivian organic fairtrade coffee".*

Anyway, in Oxford Today, there is an article about Oxford's MSt** creative writing and why it is so brilliant. Just over the page is an advertisement for a "University painted chest" whose "sterling silver replica key" is "a symbol of the University's rich heritage."

I do actually like getting the magazine. I'm not sure why I'm being so critical of it.

WARNING: The rest of this post contains no more jokes.

The Teachable Skills Argument

In this Oxford Today article, the creative-writing-as-a-teachable-skill argument is attributed to Clare Morgan, the academic who led the set up of the Creative Writing MSt at Oxford:
Increasingly, applicants for English courses have been querying why Oxford had no such [creative writing] programme. Some might respond that creative writing is not a proper academic subject, or that it cannot be taught because it is a matter of personal inspiration. Yet, as Morgan points out, no one asks whether painting, sculpture or music can be taught.
Two possible objections to the course are presented here, but only one of them is engaged with. The objections are:
  1. Creative writing isn't academic, and therefore should not be an academic degree at a university, especially one as prestigious as Oxford.
  2. Creative writing cannot be taught.
This is quite a clever technique, because without close reading it looks as though Morgan has dealt with both objections. In fact, she only asserts than creative writing can be taught (which is dealt with in more detail in the rest of the article) but does not argue why is should be taught, at Oxford or otherwise.

How Music is Taught at Universities

Often, people who make the can-teach-will-teach argument to me are hazy on the specifics of academic arts subjects. It is unlikely that a humanities academic like Morgan is ignorant of how academic arts work, but then she has a point to prove.

In the world of music and musicians, there is a clear distinction between academic music and music as a practical art.

The fact is, I didn't spend three years of my life doing scales in thirds on the piano. Most of my time at Oxford was spent studying music history, anthropological and critical theory, aesthetics, philosophy and paleography. I wrote essays about racism in opera, a dissertation about English medieval musicologists around the world wars, and a photo essay about the practise of musical theatre.

Music at Oxford is a humanities subject, and is largely examined academically. It is true that there are practical elements to the music course at Oxford, and even more at other universities, but if you wanted to be a famous pianist or composer you would go to a specialist conservatoire. I chose to go to Oxford to exercise my mind, not my fingers.

Specialist music schools typically offer more practical courses, and the degrees awarded are clearly distinguished from academic ones. The Royal Academy of Music in London, for example, offers a four-year Bmus course, which is clearly geared towards life as a professional musician.

At Oxford, I was awarded a BA (hons), which is the same degree that my peers in the English, Classics, History and Languages faculties will be awarded. (Note also that the practical-language-learning part of undergraduate languages courses at Oxford is a very small part of the assessed curriculum.)

A day in the life of a humanities student.
A day in the life of an arts student.

This distinction between practical and theoretical music has existed since at least the early sixth century, as Oxford music students learn in their first year when they read Boethius' De institutione musica, a treatise on music which divides musicians into cantors who have practical musical skills, and musicus who actually understand the music that cantors sing.

Today, music theorists are one thing, composers are another, and performers are a different breed altogether. These separations are by no means intended to diminish those who choose to develop their practical musicianship. Although I do think Boethius probably did mean to belittle cantors, there is none of much less of that snobbery around today. The distinction between music as humanity and music as craft has by-and-large been found to be useful because it clearly indicates whether someone will be better off writing programme notes or being in the programme.

Why, though, has this practical/theoretical distinction been left out of the way creative writing is taught?

How Creative Writing is Taught at Universities

As a craft, or perhaps even as an art, creative writing can clearly be taught. I wouldn't wish to argue with that. I'm sure many of the courses at taught universities are wonderful. I've looked through the programme for Morgan's creative writing MSt and it looks very well thought through indeed - I may even apply one day.

What I have a problem with is the idea that an MSt in creative writing is equivalent to an academic MSt in, say, English 1900-present. The English MSt prepares its candidates for academic research and careers in academia. The creative writing course teaches its candidates to write fiction. It seems clear to me that these are quite different things, and call for quite different assessment methods and criteria - as indeed are provided by Morgan's course.

In my ideal world, there would be specialist schools of creative writing, who would award degrees like Masters of Poetry Writing (MPoW, perhaps) and Doctor of Drama. That way, everyone knows where they stand. Creative writing teachers wouldn't have to shroud their courses in critical theory to make them look sufficiently academic for the academy.

In the real world, it seems setting up whole new institutions for creative writing has been too much effort. Especially when humanities departments across the land are welcoming creative crafts tutors with open arms.

Wishing the letters after peoples' name to reflect a clear distinction between practical and theoretical writing is pedantic of me, I know. But shouldn't writers, of all people, be calling a spade a spade?

PS: Readers will also be interested in Kei Millar's take on the subject.

* I can only assume that the coffee is not certified by the Fairtrade Foundation or the subeditors of Oxford Today would clearly have capitalised it correctly. The creative efforts of readers naturally aren't worth a properly certified coffee.

** The Master of Studies is one of Oxford's 'real' MA degrees. Anyone with an undergraduate degree from Oxford gets their degree upgraded to a MA (Oxon) after a certain period of time after graduation.

7 December 2011

My NaNoWriMo

Where have I been for the past month?

Well, I've been in NaNo land, and I've been 'Stoned.

I suppose I should take those one at a time.

National Novel Writing Month

I wrote 14000 words of a novel provisionally titled, Sex Lives of Oxford Students. Set in the world of Oxford's shadier dining societies, it's basically Brideshead Revisitied as a romantic comedy, with the sex added in and the ponderous religious parts taken out. I may post an extract if sufficient peer pressure is applied.

Wrimos will know that 14000 is not particually good going for a NaNo attempt. The target for "winning" is 50k, and many people manage much more than that. I don't feel too cut up about it though, as the bulk of those 14k were written in the first week and a half on the month - the rest of the month being eaten up by the beast that is renumerative employment.


I'm now selling books for thirty eight hours a week for one of Britain's largest book shop chains. The job began in the middle of NaNo, and although the shop was considerate to ease me into full-time work gradually,* I found that as my working hours went up my writing hours went down. My inner physicist is telling me to call this indirect proportion, but my inner physicist has not recieved the benefits of a detailed mathematical training so I will ignore him.

Now I'm getting more comfortable in my role at the book shop, I find I have more time avalable to be creative. This is exciting, and at the moment I'm using it to write poems about customer service policies.

Watch this space.

* Aren't they lovely?