The Organic Growth of Youth

On Thursday, I bought a video camera. The idea was for the group to write a script about their project, video tape themselves and upload the new video onto their website, Facebook page and tumblr. That didn't happen. Of course it didn't happen. What did happen was the crew discussed a lot, wrote a little, then did spontaneous interviews on the topics on hand - what is Raw Fiction? why is Raw Fiction? and so on.

The publicist shot most of the footage, except for that which she is in, and took the SD card with her to do the video edits. Raw Theater.

Last week I was stressed out because I didn't think the group was necessarily going to be able to achieve their goals, and I let them know. They let me know that this project is theirs and they want to do it and they'd communicated amongst themselves and had direction and drive. I was so proud of them I started crying. Really. Literally, there were tears.

So today, I just released the reigns. And it feels good not to be accountable.

I could have gotten annoyed. Or made snide comments (I'm an expert at those). However, when I walked in, 8 minutes early, with the Web Programmer who I'd run into walking over, and saw three of the group already there, waiting for me, demanding where the fifth one was. So eager. So inspiring. And then I sit down and listen to their conversation. Pink Berry. They're anxious for my arrival, they have so much work to do, they know what is on the agenda for today and yet they sit discussing frozen yogurt. A corporate frozen yogurt chain.

What made the possibility of me being annoyed and obnoxious even greater was the fact that the Editor-in-Chief had just said to me, two days before, that they need more time for project discussion and less on the readings. (I seriously beg to differ, but it's theirs, I created the monster. Just call me Shelley.)

But I reasoned with myself. It's nice for them to chat and get to know each other and be comfortable on a social level. Yet, at the same time due to the immaturity in me, the child that needs to put you in front of a mirror to expose the food stuck between your teeth instead of simply nicely telling you, whispering discretely, I couldn't be bothered to take over and say, okay, so now it's 1:30 on the dot, let's get started.

I don't work with children because I hate to micromanage. I do work with teenagers because when you don't micromanage there's a lot to laugh about - but more importantly, that's exactly when they blow you away with their original insights and brilliance. When it all clicks and that child mind begins to take control of its own life.

The wheels got rolling when the Graphic Designer walked in 5 minutes late, expecting to join in, looked confused at the silliness around her and asked, what's going on. The others snapped to and got to work.

I feel free, it's theirs. There are things I would change. I would certainly go about doing just about everything differently, but it's theirs. And I'm free. Free to focus on their intellectual development as independent and critical thinkers.

This is a photograph of the Graphic Designer, Web Programmer and Publicist fine-tuning their social media site and website last week:

The Team Goes to El Museo del Barrio

I missed a great photograph today. The youth sitting on a bench facing a gigantic photograph of a path leading to a mountain. Not speaking. Waiting.

I had attempted to steal the language reigns of the project due to lack of speed but the Editor-in-chief coup'd. She claimed her own pretension and snobbery and stated that even she wouldn't request such high writing. So fix it, I said. It's written. Why isn't it here?  It's saved in my computer. With complete sentences as opposed to a bullet list? Yes, she assured me. So I want to see it.

One of my writers gave the thumbs to my boosting them over this first hurdle; after telling me she wouldn't be able to make it, she'd forgotten about a school trip, so stressed out; Raw Fiction is enrichment, it shouldn't be stressful. Another writer also approved and gave feedback regarding some of the technical details, very helpful. One thought the opening paragraph was too refined to be asking for the unrefined: it's complicated and unapproachable and where's the grittiness? One wanted to redo it herself (see paragraph above). One had no comment, the same who was waiting at the wrong museum for 20 minutes.

I told them to just go in and experience the art. No assignment. Just look at what you like.

There was a photograph on the wall of the museum. Of fire escapes full of people. Like water slides, the Editor said.

While they were waiting for me to get my bag from the bag check, I handed the camera to the Project Manager. She had them take a picture of her:

And returned the camera. So I gave it to the Graphic Designer for the walk to East Harlem Cafe where we were heading for snacks and a meeting. She did nothing but turn it off after a few minutes.

There they discussed the project and I got some snapshots of their serious seriousness.

The project manager took the last shot of the cafe.

The following I found in the museum where there weren't any guards:

I sent them home with Baldwin and told them to write on the photocopies. Underline the most powerful sentences. Reread five paragraphs once you're done.

Variables in Autonomous Hierarchical Collaboration

Today I met Raw Fiction's graphic designer on the corner of Dekalb and S. Elliott to retrieve my computer. I share it with her so she can learn the software and create a logo, design flyers and do whatever it is a graphic designer must do. I was dressed like a ringmaster. She looked like a high school student.

I keep preaching hierarchy and autonomy to them, my kids. Which is funny, because I'm an anarchist. Or maybe that is why. Everyone is their own individual monarch. Can monarchs with no masses work together?

The graphic designer had a present for me. One I was not expecting. A small white candy box with chocolate covered insects inside. There were four total. Two worms and two crickets, either milk or white chocolate. We stood across from Fort Greene park eating bugs and questioning progress.

Admittedly, progress has been slow. When I try to tell them this and encourage them to reconsider such big ideas as publishing others (we haven't even started to tackle the event yet) they ignore me. I love that they want this so much. But I also want them to get the most out of the reading, writing and field trips.

In lieu of the museum trip to El Museo del Barrio this Saturday, the graphic designer suggested the group have a meeting. Now, I did not say no. [This project is theirs. I can only provide them with options and hope they make the best decisions, or those I'd prefer. They have their mentors to ponder questions about time management and goals. They are on different pages and didn't meet last weekend due to the snow. Nor did they organize a conference session, which I suggested.] I simply asked her if she'd proposed this idea to the others and then emphasized the necessity of expanding one's cultural horizons in order to grow as a writer, thinker, human.

We finished the insects, I put Baldwin's Going to Meet the Man in her hands, and went our separate ways. I went home to walk my dog, chilled for a bit, felt social while longing for solitude, took the later and wound up the the BPL's Tuesday night movie. Scarface. Action, art, guns, immigrants, cops, morals and murder. The film has it all. The depths of loneliness, desperation and greed. I was moved.

I came home ready to scribble about solitude, anxiety, love and loneliness in the new tiny notebook I bought in the Brooklyn Museum shop after the El Anatsui exhibit on Thursday but checked my email first. An email to the group, from the Graphic Designer. Basically saying: There's much to be discussed (full stop). Let's meet to talk this week and do the museum next week (full stop). Respond All if you agree (full stop). Like a telegram. It'd been a couple of hours but no one had responded. I piped in. Not so easy. First: I haven't reserved a room for this Saturday. Second: There's a workshop next weekend. So the choice must be meeting and museum or no museum.

The web programmer responded: Meeting.

I kind of like the idea of being overthrown. However, I dislike the idea of work over art. Except, of course, the work is art. Is it the tangible taking priority over the metaphysical that irks me? The growth of spirit being deemed less important than professional growth?

And therefore, I must think hard, introspectively, about my own motivation. Motivation has so little to do outcome. My motivation was to bring youth together like frozen compounds of unknown, untested substance placed in a bowl to thaw and react to one another. The only constant is that they all want this to work.

Madison Avenue Is Not A Number; It's A Lesson

Today, Raw Fiction began it's journey to whatever it will be. Four out five participants got off the train not knowing where Madison Avenue is. Thus my witty comment: Madison Avenue is not a number; it's a lesson.

Raw Fiction is five young women from the Bronx, Queens, Manhattan and Brooklyn. For now, that's all they know. They do not know each other and, perhaps, they do not yet fully know themselves.

I know pretty much why I started Raw Fiction and why it's important to me. What became evident in my structuring of the idea is that I could not be the one who decided how to define the project. It has to be them. But the big question is: What is important to them? 

The Editor-in-Chief posed a great question after everyone left today - she did that after the Orientation too. She asked if there was space for chit-chat (my words) during the meetings. I wanted to know what she was getting at and dead-panned something about time management and that the field trips are better venues for team building. She was curious about what the others enjoy reading. It's a pertinent question that I told her I would negotiate into the next meeting.

However, on the platform at 34th Street I started thinking about books and writing and voices. What is important to these young writers? What makes them angry, ruffles their feathers, makes them spit and cry and scream? Or am I too late? Generation A for apathy? - But that's impossible with this group of self-starters. What kind of teenager jumps on board a boat with an unknown destination, a vague promise that they'll learn how to navigate the vessel along the way, and a novice interest in boating in general - A Raw Fiction teenager, that's who.

I know they've got original ideas inside. They just need to figure out what's really important to them. The Editor-in-Chief needs to declare what is meaningful.

Is making a voice public important? Of course. But isn't it much more important to make heard a voice that has meaning. And then we must define what is meaningful. However, if I try to interject too much then they might revolt and do something frivolous. Would that action of disregard for authority be enough? For me?

This week we started slow. Saw a bunch of glitches and worked around them. First question: what is the publication going to be? We need to know this before anything else happens. And we need to know this soon because, as the Project Manager just realized, planning takes time. A venue needs to be booked months in advance, not a month before. Speaking of which, I'm going to pause and go the SIBL page to reserve the room for next week.

We only took half an hour on Toni Morrison's "Moby Dick" essay and Kurt Vonnegut's "Harrison Bergeron" because ConEd decided to shut the library down early thus evicting us a half hour before we should have been ready. Therefore, I prioritized project planning over literary discussion.

Vonnegut's story just screams government control to me. However, our new Communications Director pointed out the aspect of people being silly. She's better than me, that's not fair. My goodness Vonnegut, you hate a whiner don't you. And as a society how do we cope with an imbalance of talent - we try to change the laws of nature. And Man shall always play God.

I didn't get them talking enough about Morrison's essay but I'm glad they read it, even if none of them enjoyed it. I'm excited to follow up satire with Manto and essay writing with ... hmm, who will it be? Blanchot? Lorde? Calvino? But that will be down the line.

Next stop is Sandra Cisneros.

I want to introduce them to as many ideas as possible without overwhelming them and force them to think about who they are and where they come from and then see where they stand in a couple of weeks.

I feel like this has been a terse but necessary entry. 

A la prochaine. We're about to get regular again.

Confessions of a Writer/Educator

The launch on September 15 went over really well. The readers were fantastic and the audience was thrilled.

My recruitment efforts leading up to the launch also led to exactly six young writers who are seriously interested in committing to the project. A lot of people are asking the question: "What if they flake out?" I'm more interested in, especially right now: "What if they don't flake out?" Why should I create unnecessary competition for something that has pieced together so organically seamless at the moment. Especially now that I can focus on other things, i.e. writing the curriculum, planning field trips and applying for a grant that could allow us to do a print edition.

So now what? For me, that is. What are my goals? For the past week I've been thinking about the repetitive nature of projects and what it means to found an organization. Yet, I must be true to myself first. I have always been adamant that this is not a project that comes from a humanitarian motivation. Youth and Brooklyn automatically conjure notions of charity. If anything I'm trying to counter that assumption. I'm doing art for art's sake with youth for my sake. I love teenagers. I love literature. I love the idea of creating a space where I can work with youth and expose them to writers and ideas I value while giving them the opportunity to incorporate these ideas into their own work and project.

Some people have been very supportive of my decision to keep this as solo event. Others have allowed me to humor them with a shrug of the shoulders and a "who knows" what will happen. But I feel there are those who just assume and expect that this is my life mission, so much so that it influences the way I view the project and myself. Thank goodness for this blog, where I can work out these dilemmas.

I'm a writer, first and foremost. Raw Fiction is a huge creative outlet for me. As a writer I am still learning and growing. I am adamantly an unpublished writer because I am not ready to be published. My work is not yet there. So, by doing Raw Fiction I can produce something that is much larger than myself and feel like I've done something worthwhile before slipping back into obscurity.

I am craving obscurity, as I write away on this blog, so public like a frog in a livelong bog. Even when I thought Raw Fiction could be an organization, or had to be an organization, back when I was first starting out and had no idea what I was doing, I knew I didn't want to be ED. I still don't. I don't want to do the same thing for years. I don't want to beg rich people for money in order to pursue my dreams. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with people who write grants for a living, or who are ED's of really great organizations that can only exist to help people because they can successfully convince the people with money to direct the money to them, but it is not my world. I can see no happiness at the end of that tunnel. I don't feel the rewards of it..... Unless, unless, it was for my own personal literary work.

In my searches for grants I've realized how many options there are for writers, women writers, black writers, queer writers and I want to look into those when this project is over. I've taught myself how to research and apply for grants, I want to take that skill and use it for my own art.

I think we all have to be completely true to our own hearts and ambitions. And it's hard for those of us who are queer activists. We want to fight for our communities. We need to. But how do we do that and balance our need to take care of ourselves and immerse ourselves in our art? That's another thing Raw Fiction is doing for me. I'm allowing myself to put all of my energy into this huge thing that is inherently humanistic and charitable no matter how much I try to say otherwise. No matter how much I will benefit from the personal and professional growth of it, it's a really "honorable thing to do," to quote a poet who I resented for saying it. But I can't keep doing it. This is not my destiny.

I am dreaming of the next steps. Of traveling somewhere. Of moving somewhere. Of writing something. Of getting a Master's degree, not because it's a last resort but because I would really enjoy it. The world seems so wide open and welcoming right now. Having come so far with Raw Fiction (getting it off the ground, meeting awesome youth who are excited about it, knowing it will be a success no matter how big or small) has given me the confidence to keep pursuing my dreams. To keep dreaming.

That's what I want Raw Fiction to give to all of its participants and audience members: We can follow our dreams and see them to fruition. And that in itself is enough to change the world.

THE CENTER

Thursday, September 6, 2012. 6pm.

I was presenting Raw Fiction at the The LGBT Center on W. 13th Street. It is one of the organizations that has been on my list from Day 1. People would ask me: Where do you want to recruit youth from? It's always been: schools and libraries, The Door and The Center, everywhere. It's one of the orgs that has been part of my New York awareness since I can remember, which makes sense because it was founded the year after I was born.

I was excited that Olin, the Outspoken Views coordinator, had invited me to present the project to his youth in person. When I showed up people couldn't find him so I sat down and started reading.  A few minutes later the cutest guy came over and sat next to me and asked what I was reading. He thought I was a new youth. The beauty of being 30 is that when someone takes you for 17 (based on your looks) it is a wonderful compliment.

I got a brief tour of the YES (Youth Enrichment Services) offices then Olin rounded up the young people and we all sat around a giant round table in the Outspoken Views meeting room.

Raw Fiction was the theme of the day and an agenda was written on the white board.

The first activity was to go around in a circle and introduce yourself with name, preferred gender pronoun (PGP), age and why it's great to be your age. Olin, 29, he, went right before me: (30, she, but I don't care if I get he because sometimes I dress like a guy and look like a boi or a boy from certain angles) and thought the best thing about being 29 is that he's not 30 yet. Lucky he's so cute. One more year Olin, I promise the thirties are the best decade.

The next exercise was an ice-breaker. A group story that manifests one word at a time from each participant as it develops rapidly around the circle. Censorship was not a question, these are teenagers getting to express themselves safely, in a fun and silly way.

Then I did my project presentation. Gave a Q&A. Think it went over well. The youth seemed interested but how does interest manifest itself into action, the ever-hovering question. I was impressed by their creativity, I hope they all come. One youth declared web programming was easy. HTML, CSS what? no problem. Give me that one. Sign them up! Take the talk to the walk and Mentor Darwin will get you there.

The writing exercise that followed my presentation was pretty deep and I was happy when the young man next to me asked Olin to re-read the prompt. Which went something like this: You are standing on the train platform when the train burst into the station the air gushing into you and filling you up like a helium balloon you are blown into the air and pushed into the tunnel but it is there you realize you have not ended up in the subway tunnel but near the core of yourself.

So I wrote a piece about stomping around like a happy explorer on my heart. The young woman who sat next to me probably inspired the planetary-like exploration by bringing her love of Octavia Butler to the table during the Q&A. Butler is not on Raw Fiction's list but she probably should be. The list will definitely be subject to change depending on the interests of the youth involved in the project. This same young woman is a great writer herself and I hope she comes through with all her friends to the recruitment event. Some of the youth chose to express themselves visually and some intense sketches came from the exercise.

Olin's job reminds me of part of the reason I am doing Raw Fiction, I love working with youth. Sitting around a table full of teenagers and inspiring them to express themselves creatively is really the best job I can imagine.

Plus, Outspoken Views isn't just a meeting group but they produce a publication every few months. So the youth who participate are welcome to hand in their work at the end of the one-hour session as a means of submitting work to the zine.

Before I left I received the gift of a couple of past productions:

Thank you Nicole (the Youth Project Director), Olin and the youth of YES for being such an inspiration to Raw Fiction!

LAUNCH INVITATION. WWW.RAWFICTION.ORG