Sunday, 2 December 2012

Spotted: Another Kurt Vonnegut Gem

So many things inspire me on a minute to minute basis.  A lot of the time, I come across something brilliant and wish I had written/photographed/created/thought of  it myself.  Have you ever felt that?  Well, for me, this is one of them.   

Old school

Old Marking Companion
Suzanne McConnell, one of Kurt Vonnegut’s students in his “Form of Fiction” course at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, saved this assignment, explaining that Vonnegut “wrote his course assignments in the form of letters, as a way of speaking personally to each member of the class.” The result is part assignment, part letter, part guide to writing and life.

This assignment is reprinted from Kurt Vonnegut: Letters, edited by Dan Wakefield, out now from Delacorte Press.

November 30, 1965
This course began as Form and Theory of Fiction, became Form of Fiction, then Form and Texture of Fiction, then Surface Criticism, or How to Talk out of the Corner of Your Mouth Like a Real Tough Pro. It will probably be Animal Husbandry 108 by the time Black February rolls around. As was said to me years ago by a dear, dear friend, “Keep your hat on. We may end up miles from here.”
As for your term papers, I should like them to be both cynical and religious. I want you to adore the Universe, to be easily delighted, but to be prompt as well with impatience with those artists who offend your own deep notions of what the Universe is or should be. “This above all ...”
I invite you to read the fifteen tales in Masters of the Modern Short Story (W. Havighurst, editor, 1955, Harcourt, Brace, $14.95 in paperback). Read them for pleasure and satisfaction,beginning each as though, only seven minutes before, you had swallowed two ounces of very good booze. “Except ye be as little children ...”
Then reproduce on a single sheet of clean, white paper the table of contents of the book, omitting the page numbers, and substituting for each number a grade from A to F. The grades should be childishly selfish and impudent measures of your own joy or lack of it. I don’t care what grades you give. I do insist that you like some stories better than others.
Proceed next to the hallucination that you are a minor but useful editor on a good literary magazine not connected with a university. Take three stories that please you most and three that please you least, six in all, and pretend that they have been offered for publication. Write a report on each to be submitted to a wise, respected, witty and world-weary superior.
Do not do so as an academic critic, nor as a person drunk on art, nor as a barbarian in the literary market place. Do so as a sensitive person who has a few practical hunches about how stories can succeed or fail. Praise or damn as you please, but do so rather flatly, pragmatically, with cunning attention to annoying or gratifying details. Be yourself. Be unique. Be a good editor. The Universe needs more good editors, God knows.
Since there are eighty of you, and since I do not wish to go blind or kill somebody, about twenty pages from each of you should do neatly. Do not bubble. Do not spin your wheels. Use words I know.

Sigh. This totally made my day. 

Anyway, what are you reading right now?  Choose a line or paragraph that you wish you had written yourself. Tell me about it.  Leave a comment or heck, write a post. 

Have a great Sunday! Well,what's left of it.  Make it count. 

Ms. P


  1. The only problem wish writing something yourself, is that you can't be amazed when you come across it.

    1. Hi Rosie,

      Thanks for you comment. :) I was wondering if you could expound on what you meant by that. Isn't sharing something you've come across a way to also express how amazed you are by it? I think wishing you had written something someone else did just means that you appreciate it so much, thought it so brilliant, that you wish you had it in you to achieve something similar. Capture the same brilliance...something like that.

      Tell me what you think? I'd love to know what you meant exactly.


      Ms. P