After taking Matt Hoverman’s excellent “create your own solo show” class, I realized that the story told in my show was the story I’d tell in my book. Prior to that realization, I figured my memoir would be a zany collection of disconnected wackiness a la Sedaris or Ames, but once I let the rush of performing my piece settle for a bit, it became pretty obvious.

I only had one story to tell, and I was going to milk it for all it was worth.

Of course, the thought of navigating all the different writing classes in NYC was dizzying, and there was no quality calibration. Look, I’m a god-damned Yale Academy grad; I wasn’t about to place myself in a class with any old hoodlums taught by any old ninny.

So I did what any aspiring writer would do. I picked a writer whose stuff I liked (Ames), stalked him (by attending no less than three readings and a Moth event that he hosted), got him to sign his book, then emailed him and demanded he let me buy him dinner in Brooklyn in exchange for writing advice.

Over (thankfully prix-fixe Dine In Brooklyn) dinner, he encouraged me to look at The New School, where he was an instructor in their MFA program. (Of course, that dinner resulted in the immediate eruption of Mr. 940P’s not-so-hidden psychological problems, but he was going to bolt in a fit of anxiety anyway; better right away before I developed any feelings, n’est-ce pas?)

I’m happy to report that the Continuing Ed writing classes get the ANP seal of approval, and would recommend anyone who wants to memoir-ialize themselves but needs some discipline to check out the following (and in this order):

1. Matt’s solo show class. I’d no idea what my show would be (in fact, until the first class, I thought it was for stand-up comedy) and hadn’t been on stage since playing the juror-in-advertising in John Glenn High School’s production of Twelve Angry Jurors. No matter. As I testify on Matt’s webpage,

I’m a banker, not an actress, but Matt enabled me to turn a deeply personal experience into a piece that literally brought the audience to both laughter and tears.

Unless you know exactly what you’re going to write about and are adept at setting scenes, dramatizing, and crafting dialogue, I recommend you take this class first. Telling a story is telling a story is telling a story. Matt’s process and approach will elicit your truth in a wonderful, nourishing way.

2. Jane Rabb’s Writing Autobiographically class.
   

   Jane M. Rabb, PhD, Harvard U.; teaches literature and composition for Harvard and Radcliffe adult education programs

   and cracks my ass up. She’s possibly in her eighties, still smokes, is a class act wardrobe-wise, and has seen forty-plus years worth of student writing. In her class you’ll

   Learn how to turn personal experiences into effective and meaningful autobiographical pieces describing key childhood events, schools, jobs, influential relationships, philosophical, political, or spiritual turning points, or any interesting life occurrences.

   It’s excellent for improving form, ensuring smooth transitions, and eradicating trite verbiage. The plus is that she’s from a generation that actually read great prose on the regular, and she’ll cover your slang-ridden writing with red circles,

   What is pleather?

   helping you to ferret out what may otherwise date your piece. It’s the perfect class to take to help you begin formalizing the script from your show into a manuscript (indeed, she distributes a checklist for reviewing your drafts which I have found quite helpful); she allows you to submit pages from a larger piece instead of her assignments so long as you discuss this with her beforehand.

3. Nancy Kelton’s Writing from Personal Experience class. A kid from Jane’s class tipped me off to this class. Nancy
   

   BA, NYU; author of Writing from Personal Experience, Dating Is About Finding Someone So You Never Have to Date Again …

   can come across as off-putting at first, but is a wonderfully warm teacher who genuinely cares about her students and pushes for authenticity. Honesty. Vulnerability. It’s the perfect follow-up class to Rabb’s form-focused course.

   This workshop is for students who wish to turn their life experiences into prose for themselves and/or for publication. Emphasis is on getting started, finding one’s voice, developing ideas, establishing disciplined habits, and exploring writing problems as they arise.

   Nancy assigns two pages (deviations from which are scorned and returned to writer) every other week; work is read anonymously and critiqued by the class. I found the two pages very difficult at first, but now enjoy the clarity they force upon my normally blah blah alhalbhbalh. I also realize that I greatly enjoy editing my own work and others. I’ve used this class to create new material for my manuscript, as each two-pager has resulted in a new scene that I will weave back into my work.

I just enrolled in Elaine Edelman’s Self and Craft: A Creative Writing Workshop, which, despite the use of the word craft, looks promising.

This exploration of the crafts of … expressive, personal nonfiction … balances technical concerns with awareness of how the writing process engages and transforms the writer’s self.

Yeah, okay, that sounds a little fruity, but I need a Wednesday evening class and

The instructor … responds … to every submitted piece

and given that she is a

former senior editor, Harper & Row

who knows. Worst case, it will be nice to have exposure to another published author to add to my bucket of influences.

I’d love to hear about anyone else’s experiences with nonfiction writing classes here in the City. And, if anyone is interested in forming a nonfiction writer’s group in Brooklyn, let me know.

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