I’m just back from two weeks spent on the campus of Skidmore College in Saratoga Springs, NY, attending the New York State Summer Writers Institute . It was everything I’d hoped it would be: an invigorating, absorbing experience during which I met writers of all ages and backgrounds, listened every night to a roster of top-level novelists and poets read from their work, and, most importantly, participated in an intense, stimulating workshop led by two amazing writers.
The NYSSWI is the annual summer program of The New York State Writers Institute, established in 1984 by award-winning novelist William Kennedy at the University at Albany, SUNY. This July marked the 25th anniversary of the summer program, also founded by William Kennedy.
Participants ranged in age from college undergraduates to men and women in their 70s and 80s, some of them published writers, others just starting out. I found the atmosphere open and welcoming, with participants eager to meet each other—most of us easily identifiable by our bright red tote bags, the one piece of Institute swag.
The Institute’s program is divided into two two-week sessions, each with three fiction workshops (Intermediate, Advanced, Master), two poetry workshops, and one non-fiction workshop. I attended the first two-week session; a number of people (most taking it for academic credit) stay for the full month.
When I applied to the Institute back in January, I asked to be placed in the second level fiction workshop, led by Joseph O’Neill (author of Netherland) and Andrea Barrett (National Book Award winning author of Ship Fever, The Voyage of The Narwhal, Servants of the Map and The Air We Breathe). I wasn’t sure then how the two-instructor pairing was organized (I had some naïve idea they might team-teach).
Turns out that Joseph O’Neill led the first week, while Andrea Barrett came for the second week, which meant that half of the participants in my group had their work read and critiqued by O’Neill, and the other half had theirs critiqued by Barrett. I was very pleased that my piece was read in the week led by Andrea Barrett. She is one of my favorite writers, with novels and short stories often set in the 19th or early 20th centuries. Since I’m working on historical fiction, she was a perfect match. I had a very productive and positive individual meeting with Ms. Barrett; she is a kind, patient, and insightful teacher and an extraordinarily sensitive and engaged reader.
(For anyone considering applying to the program, I have an important suggestion: be absolutely clear which of the pair of workshop instructors you would like to work with. Several people I talked to were very disappointed because they hoped one particular instructor would read their work, but they ended up with the other. Fortunately, I explained in my application letter that I wanted to work with Andrea Barrett.)
As instructors, Joseph O’Neill and Andrea Barrett had very different but complementary approaches. O’Neill led a more student-directed workshop, each participant first sharing his or her insights and observations about the piece under discussion, with O’Neill then adding his ideas and building on the points raised by participants. Barrett, on the other hand, ran a more tightly structured workshop, asking each participant whose work was under discussion to first read from his or her piece, then inviting another student to summarize the narrative, followed by a number of specific and focused questions about such craft issues as movement in time or point of view. Each approach had its benefits, and together they gave me—a workshop neophyte—an excellent introduction to the process.
The fifteen participants in my workshop included three current college seniors and recent graduates (most with majors in Creative Writing), a retired environmental engineer, a doctor, several English teachers and professors, a computer engineer, a bookbinder, and me, an art historian. Each member of the group brought his or her particular insights and writing strengths, and as a group we discussed a variety of projects, from novels-in-progress to complete short stories, including, for example, a novel set in a dystopian future, a mystery/thriller, a political allegory, as well as character-driven narratives set in the 1890s, the 1930s, the 1950s, and the present.
I also paid extra for a personal tutorial with a writer-in-residence. Amy Wallen (author of Moon Pies and Movie Stars) read the manuscript of my completed novel and met with me for an hour-long session. Amy turned out to be a very astute and helpful reader; I also heard excellent reports about the other writer-in-residence, Adam Braver.
An especially inspiring feature of the Institute was the informal Q and A session with a visiting writer scheduled each Tuesday and Thursday afternoon. Mary Gordon, Michel Ondaatjes, Caryl Philips, and Paul Auster all talked about their writing processes, their inspirations and influences; I found it encouraging that even writers of their stature and achievement still wrestle with self-doubt and moments of discouragement. Their advice, to a person: keep writing.
Every weekday evening, a pair of distinguished writers read from their work, many introducing new, unpublished material. The readers included novelists Mary Gordon, Joseph O’Neill, Michael Ondaatjes, Marilynne Robinson, Paul Auster, Siri Hustvedt, Andrea Barrett, Caryl Phillips, Victoria Redel, Elizabeth Benedict, Binnie Kirshenbaum, and Linda Spalding; poets Robert Pinsky, Frank Bidart, Campbell McGrath, and Carolyn Forche; memoirists Philip Lopate and Honor Moore. The readings ended on a particularly high note: William Kennedy read from his new novel, due out in October. Kennedy’s poignant, humane and sadly humorous insight into his characters and the pitch-perfect inflections of his voice (including some snatches of song) were just wonderful.
On to more mundane, but still important matters: the living and eating facilities. Dorm rooms were tiny, without many of the little amenities we take for granted (wastebaskets, readings lamps, mirrors), but since I was forewarned and I traveled by car, I was able to fit out my spartan room quite comfortably. Shared co-ed bathrooms turned out better than I thought—I rarely ran into anyone, male or female. The dining hall was ultra-modern—renovated several years ago—with a wide assortment of food, all you can eat, much like a cruise ship!
The Skidmore campus is self-contained and lovely, with benches everywhere and many places to sit and read in the sun or shade. There is also an outstanding art museum—the Tang—on campus. Downtown Saratoga Springs, a lively little town (in the summer, at least—I heard the winters are tough) with a variety of shops and restaurants, is just a short walk away, down a wide avenue lined with unusually flamboyant 19th-century houses.
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