Being a science fiction writer was all I wanted, since as far back as I can remember. I was hailed as something of a prodigy by my school teachers, who I recall holding up the fat stacks of my hand-written “short story” assignments in dismay to other teachers. “I have to grade this! Look at this!”
So it’s not a surprise that I heard about the Clarion Science Fiction Writing Workshop at an early age. Six weeks, completely dedicated to the craft of writing! I yearned for this haven, but the way one dreams of becoming a rock star or football player. It wasn’t going to happen.
As I got older, and joined a local writing workshop, people started asking me “Why don’t you go to Clarion?”
I remember being miffed at the question. I’d sell my right arm to go! But I couldn’t get six weeks off work! I had to pay the rent! I had to eat!
Very few people can afford to interrupt their wages for six weeks. I suspect most Clarion attendees are recent college graduates who are about to go to grad school or have a job lined up that starts in a few months, so they have a break. I’d missed that shot. I went straight from college to minimum wage work, struggling to work my way up to entry-level white collar while dealing with a mysterious illness that wouldn’t go away and couldn’t be diagnosed because I had no health insurance.
… wew, yeah, my twenties were ROUGH.
So there I was in my 30s, finally stable, finally healthy, finally making enough money that I had savings, and people asked, “Well, why not go to Clarion?” But I still couldn’t afford it. If I zeroed out my lifetime savings, I’d still be short on the cost of the workshop, never mind the plane ticket there. Then, what about the time off work? I had two weeks of vacation, not six!
In 2012, I decided that if I wanted the Clarion experience, I would have to create it for myself. I joined the Clarion Write-A-Thon to raise money for scholarships to the workshop. I pledged to write 50 short story drafts in six weeks. That’s 1.2 stories a day. It was ambitious and I focused hard, churning out drafts at a furious pace, no time to get precious about if the idea was right or not. For six weeks, I made writing my primary business, though of course I still worked forty hours a week as a website programmer and system administrator.
A weird thing happened as a result of that. When you put effort into something, the thing becomes more valuable to you. I had worked hard on my writing that summer, and so, when the time came, I went ahead and applied to Clarion the next year.
I remember, when it came to the optional “I need financial aid” section of the form thinking it was pure hubris to fill it out. Sure, I couldn’t afford to go, but I also wasn’t POOR. Most people who applied, I reasoned, would be more deserving. There was no way they’d give someone with a cushy job like me a dime.
But I went ahead and filled it out, let them know how much I made and how much I had in savings.
I wouldn’t get in, I told myself. It was just nice to try.
Then I feared I would get in, and my heart would break when I turned it down because I couldn’t afford to go.
But two things happened that changed my life forever.
I got in.
And, I got a scholarship to Clarion. It was almost exactly as much as I had raised for the Write-a-Thon the previous year so I wondered if, perhaps, the organizers were paying me back my own money. But hey! I got a SCHOLARSHIP. It was just enough that, when combined with my life’s savings, I could afford the tuition and the air fare.
Also, that scholarship gave me Someone Else’s Money as a prod, a motivator, a guilt. I hadn’t taken a vacation in (over) two years, so I actually had 4 weeks to spend, if I spent them over the turn of the fiscal year, which was, in fact, during Clarion. I told my boss I’d gotten into a prestigious residency program, that it was six weeks, during our slowest period of the year as an academic institution, that I would never get an offer like this again, that only 18 people in the whole world got to go, that it was paid in full and the money would vanish if I didn’t take it. (Lies! Lies!)
The point is … I would not have gone to Clarion without that scholarship. I would not have had a transformative experience, met 18 amazing people and six fascinating instructors. It might have been another thirty years before I broke into writing professionally.
And that is why I continue to participate in the Clarion Write-a-Thon every year. Consider donating to help another aspiring writer like me find their place in a wider world of creativity.
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