The “Real” Thing:

1. The “Real” Thing: Language, Authenticity, and Sh*t!

2. Firstly, tear out a scrap of paper, and … in just a few words name a single and specific experience you once had that occurred in one hour (or less) and in one single location. Some Rules This experience should not be made up, or you’ll miss the point of this prompt; it must be a true experience. Furthermore, this experience should be something you would be unlikely to tell to anyone you know, except for . . . the one writer whose work moves you more than any other. When you’re finished writing it down, fold up the scrap of paper, and put it away.

3. Next, introduce yourself by name to a stranger in the class, then . . . LIE! LIE! LIE! Have a conversation with your partner in which you lie about yourself as much as possible. Remember, your partner will also be lying about himself or herself, too. However, . . . . . . somewhere in the conversation, slip in one unsavory or uncomfortable truth about yourself you don’t like admitting to others—in other words, reveal a secret about yourself. Bury it among the lies, and don’t reveal it to your partner at any time. This exercise should take no more than 10 minutes, total.

4. WHY ARE PEOPLE INAUTHENTIC? • What causes us to be dishonest with relative strangers? • When and why do we lie to loved ones and friends? • What makes us lie to ourselves? • Which of these do you most closely associate with readers of your creative work?

5. THE CATHARTIC MOTIVE TO WRITE CATHARSIS [noun]: • an intense emotional release achieve through an action or a ritual • a psychologically purifying experience that exposes repressed or submerged feelings, often anxieties. THE “TRUTH” OF CATHARTIC WRITING: • Three poems about shaking hands with strangers. • The following three poems all relate to my frequent experience as a child of having to shake the hands of strangers at church at the behest of a priest, and the awkward embarrassment of it. • Each one expresses a different cathartic motive.

6. Hands of Friendship My hand sweetly grasps yours like a lover’s embrace; our fingers entwined in ancient, holy camaraderie, Christian soldiers marching together, in the smiling smoke of candles and warmly enchanting hymns, that sparkle like rosaries in the mist. I wish you peace that, like glimmering doves will rest upon your heart, a child’s comforting blanket I once called “friend.”

7. Hands Fingers creep, cold. Nails seek out friendship. I am alone. Again. Candles melt. Spirit wanes. Mass ends. We go in pieces.

8. The Hands that Strangle Where is your hand, you mother[bleep]ing churchgoer?! Take my [bleep]ing peace, and shove it up your sweaty palm. Your puke-filled pea-soup hymns rain down on me like putrid manna, defiling me with the stank breath of prayer. Your hallelujah vomit spews out your nasty-ass nostrils. You want a peace o’ me. I will [bleep] you up, and nail you to the cross, your [bleep]iness. And you will know we are Christians. Buy my love? Peace out, soldier.

9. What’s wrong with “Hands of Friendship”? Sentimentality: subscribing deeper emotional weight to things and experiences than they deserve, or that, as writer’s, we’re entitled to S*ntimentalityhappens when writers have no cathartic motive for relishing the experience as they do. Lack confidence in the power of their true feelings Are fearful that their “truth” is too banal Emotionally glamorizes, or “hype” the facts. What results is not only an artificial beauty, but an artificial “truth” in which the writer is no longer invested. My hand sweetly grasps yours like a lover’s embrace; our fingers entwined in ancient, holy camaraderie, Christian soldiers marching together, in the smiling smoke of candles and warmly enchanting hymns, that sparkle like rosaries in the mist. I wish you peace that, like glimmering doves will rest upon your heart, a child’s comforting blanket I once called “friend.”

10. What’s wrong with “Hands”? Exaggerates the simplicity stifling all emotion confuses the facts as the truthof the experience believes facts speak for themselves no modifiers or definite articles shows us contrived “realness.” Analogy writes “stark” on the outside, because it feels “stark” on the inside. Fingers creep, cold. Nails seek out friendship. I am alone. Again. Candles melt. Spirit wanes. Mass ends. We go, in pieces.

11. What’s wrong with “The Hands That Strangle”? Gratuitous Audacity mistakenly assumes that the opposite of sentimentality is vulgarity. replaces one set of clichéswith another, cruderset solely for shock value Analogy a rampaging drag queen at the church picnic with a machete up her skirt. Where is your hand, you [bleep]ing churchgoer?! Take my [bleep]ing peace, and shove it up your sweaty palm. Your puke-filled pea-soup hymns rain down on me like putrid manna, defiling me with the stank breath of prayer. Your hallelujah vomit spews out your nasty-ass nostrils. You want a peace o’ me. I will [bleep] you up, and nail you to the cross, your [bleep]iness. And you will know we are Christians. Buy my love? Peace out, soldier.

12. A Failure of Nerve Each one demonstrates not only clichéd writing in its own way, but also a failure to risk honestsentiment a failure to use writing as a cathartic search for the truth a failure to be “truthful.” All three versions are just play acting pandering to what I think audiences will react to. using only what makes me look good (to certain audiences) to other not part of the intended audience, they all seem like “camp” As a result, all three are INAUTHENTIC. “realism” (or, “realness” as people say nowadays) isn’t “authenticity” “sentimentality” is not the same as “sentiment” (emotional perspective) cathartic motive must be to write in spite of ego, not in extension of ego

13. Authenticity versus “Realness” In the next 20 minutes, redeem yourself of the lie you told a relative stranger. Take out the folded piece of paper from your pocket and think about what you did to lie about it to a stranger: what was particularly inauthentic and hyperbolic about it? Then, quickly, even impulsively, write a poem or work of creative nonfiction that describes the experience as truthfully and authentically as you remember experiencing it. You are not permitted to use familiar expressions of any kind (such as clichés or cuss words, or clichés with cuss words). At no point should you explain or interpret what’s “true”: the truth of the experience must be conveyed solely in your choice of emotive language and evocative imagery. Don’t forget, you’re gifting this poem or story to the one author whose writing most moves you. Dedicate the work to them—to remind yourself of this goal--but don’t mention your selected author anywhere in the work, itself.

14. WRITE! DARE TO BE REAL, TRUTHFUL and BEAUTIFUL!