A Good Teacher

When I was fourteen, a semi-famous local poet guest-taught our creative writing class for a couple weeks. I found him clever and erudite and was, by my count, the first real, living, published, working writer I’d ever met. We were, however, very different types of people – which, if he had been a good teacher, wouldn’t have mattered to him. As it was, I believe me being on the football team and track team and reading only fantasy literature did not sit well with this middle-aged, pot-smoking, tortured artist. That I was also obviously charmed by him and wanted him to like me only appeared to bother him more.

It was in his class that I was introduced to the MFA practice of workshopping. The first thing we all workshopped were poems from our everyday life. I did not yet like poetry, nor did I think my everyday life worth writing about, so the piece I read aloud describing running the high hurdles was, admittedly, pretty bad, even for a freshman in high school. The poet did not hold back, pointing out that, interpreted a certain way, one might believe I was describing a bowel movement.

When he was done with his critique, noticing my obvious hurt, he offered, “Sorry, Bill, but this is what they’ll do.”

I found him a little less charming after that, though I still wanted his approval. It would never come. It wouldn’t be long, however, before I’d begin to wonder who “they” were. They seemed like awful people, if this is what they’d do. Were they who I was writing for? How could you please them, and if you did, what would be your reward? It was hard to say, but now that I’d imagined them, this mysterious, faceless, unimpressed crowd of critics grew more real to me with every passing year.

In this way, the semi-famous poet was a great teacher. He did not consider to me too young to introduce me to an artist’s greatest, and maybe only enemy. Sooner or later, you must learn that to look for their elusive validation is to follow a phantom into greater and greater darkness where nothing and no one is good enough. I spent many years in that dark wood, as I’m sure he did as well. There’s no way out, after all, except to cease the search. Do so, and your attention is set free to light your path toward a destination only you can know.

Check out Fearless Writing with Bill Kenower on YouTube or your favorite podcast app.

Everyone Has What It Takes: A Writer’s Guide to the End of Self-Doubt
You can find William at: williamkenower.com