The road to Taos, New Mexico is not an easy one and it didn’t help that I traveled on the weekend of the global Crowdstrike outage that brought all of Delta’s operations down. But after managing flight delays and long shuttle drives, I and my Kimbilio fellow cohorts all made it safely to the confines of SMU’s rustic retreat campus for a week devoted to discovery, connections, creativity and all things Black fiction thanks to the generosity of team Kimbilio.
First a shout out to Kimbilio leader David Haynes who almost single-handedly it seems has birthed and nurtured an impressive arts organization, sustained with gravitas, grit, wit, and community building. That last part is key. Keeping institutions afloat by forging a sense of authentic belonging proves more important than a hundred dry or poetic mission statements. I also appreciated how he weaves the story of the organization’s mission and history into the retreat’s communal rituals, allowing space and time for reflection and feedback. A good lesson for anyone trying to organize and build.
The 25+ of us fellows met, e’t, acclimated ourselves to the campus’ nature trails and spartan accommodations and quickly dove into sharing our personal stories and journeys. Our “class of 24” spanned both broad geographical and age spectrums. And in contrast to participants at other well known workshops and retreats, Kimbies approached the week with grace and humility. I did not hear anyone brag about having secured a prominent agent, well-reviewed past products, an upcoming fellowship or pending book deals. Yet, an always enjoyable benefit of these things is getting to rub elbows with some seriously good writers and to read really good work in draftland taking on social subjects and historical settings that agents, editors and publishers may be thinking is passe or not marketable. My workshop mates’ pieces tackled Black family generational dynamics, addiction, the current political climate, historical trauma, colonialism, the influence of the 80s and 90s culture. In the midst of being a colleague and a critic, I got to do some intense and enjoyable reading for a week, a simple reminder of why we’re trying to do this writing thing.
The craft lessons and workshop discussions at these gatherings come fast and furious– like social media posts flowing from hoses. The Kimbilio faculty– all experienced college and MFA program instructors– were thoughtful about their preferred pedagogy, providing a helpful lens on how teaching and talking about creative writing can be approached in different ways. Like music and the visual arts, “teaching” the arts can veer wildly between intense focus on technique and technical frameworks based on centuries old ideas to digging head first into the emotional. (I know there’s nothing new about that discussion…head vs. heart… I recall having a similar conversation with my mom after we went to see “Dead Poets Society” 35 years ago). Black creative writing teachers understand this spectrum best and are very adept at braiding their lessons. On the technical front, I am always impressed with how much these folks read and how knowledgeable they are about the American literary canon and how they can pull from it to discuss theory and technique. There’s no substitute for just reading. A particular shout out to workshop leader and fellow NU Wildcat Jabari Asim, who talks about how much of his foundational knowledge came from just devouring books, beginning at an early age.
So, after a post-retreat stay in Sante Fe– home to endless adobe architecture and well-tanned retirees– I returned home and took time to review the 10 or so pages of notes I took during the week’s discussions. From what was decipherable, three particular craft discussion topics stood out. Let’s call them The Clock, The Message, and The Heart.
The Clock, The Message, and The Heart
The Clock – The moving gears in the narrative engine is the clock, establishing for the sake of the story (and the reader’s attention span) the time constraints under which your characters are acting. For those writing literary fiction where character development is king, my read was being committed to a clock in your story ultimately helps with pacing, which every editorial note I’ve ever gotten seems to mention. Stories are always moving too slowly or revealing details too fast. Intentional reader preferences and quality of writing play a role in how to engage your readers, but an aimless clock can sink a story. I am often surprised by some published novels that have no awareness of the reader needing a literal or implied timeline. Who is editing this stuff?
A pretty good essay about the clock here: https://storygrid.com/mastering-the-clock/
The Message – All writers, whether they admit it or not, want to deliver a message in their writing. But watch for didactic delivery, leaning into cliches about villains and saints, and lectures masked as dialogue that come across as stifling and inauthentic… maybe even a little dry and boring. Messages can be revealed and reinforced through the narrative.. .show.. don’t tell. Foils and antagonists with some dimension can help challenge and interrogate your desired message and make for an interesting human story. For backstory, dig into their “why” as much as their “what.”
The Heart – A singular question during the workshop for my submitted piece stopped me cold for a moment. I was asked to read a paragraph that exemplifies the heart of my opening chapters. I was surprised at how quickly my mind mined a thesis statement and how quickly I pinpointed a particular illustrative passage. It was a thought bubble presented as dialogue. As several editors have noted, I struggle a bit with “Interiority”, somewhat due to my own mental editing. Interiority can easily slip into sentimentality or shallow pop psychology. A good exercise though is to just “talk” to your characters a bit before putting them into action. A prompt I used for the particular story I am working on was “what do you regret?” My main character had LOTS to say on that, much that I was not even expecting.
Robert reading a short story excerpt at Kimbilio 2024.
The Sangre de Cristo Mountains, Carson National Forest in Taos, New Mexico
