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| Odyssey 1998 Writers Workshop |
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| Harlan asked me to do this pose, to look through his glasses, I didn't know this was one of his iconic poses. |
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| Harlan during a story critique (I'm in the far right with my back turned to the camera) |
Boring Background Stuff
I was born a middle class Chinese American kid (cue Steve Martin in The Jerk) in the San Francisco Bay Area, Berkeley to be exact; Ground Zero for The Black Panthers, Vietnam Peace Protests, and Hippies. I grew up speaking Cantonese at home and watched over-the-air TV shows (all in English) and spoke English at school. In kindergarten, I had pooped in my pants. I was sent home and my mom asked me why I didn't ask to use the restroom. I told her I didn't know how to ask in English. She then taught me the phrase. Yeah, people on TV never ask someone to use their bathroom. I was strong in math and less in English, so I leaned heavily into math and the sciences. Magnets, dinosaurs, and things that glowed-in-the-dark were mysterious and cool. Thus my love for science fiction.
I wound up becoming a software engineer. When I was at UC Berkeley, they still had room-sized computers that took punch cards to be programmed, but I was spared that as we had access to computer terminals and computer screens that allowed us to write software programs from the computer room. During my junior year, IBM introduced the IBM PC. I lucked out because who knew computers was going to be the next hot thing. This reminds me of the lines in The Graduate. "Just one word: Plastics. There's a great future in plastics. Think about it." Just one word: Computers.
I loved science fiction and wanted to learn how to write better, so I took a UC Berkeley extension course teaching science fiction writing, taught by Marta Randall. When I signed up, I had no idea she used to teach Clarion (East) and Clarion West, and was a past president of the Science Fiction Writers of America. She taught us the Milford method of critiquing which both Clarion and Odyssey uses. This is where I learned there was such a thing as Clarion. Marta did say two things that I always remember (my paraphrasing): 1. Don't continue meeting as a group after the class was over; if you do, don't make it a social group, write and critique. 2. There were more talented writers in my peer group, I was persistent, I outlasted the others, I kept on writing.
In 1993, I attended the Clarion West workshop which was an offshoot of the Clarion (East) workshop. Each week was taught by someone famous in the science fiction genre. That year, the instructors were Pat Murphy, Geoff Ryman, Connie Willis, Lucius Shepard, Alice Turner (editor), and Greg Bear. The workshop ran for 6 weeks in Seattle. You basically read everybody's work, critiqued it, and wrote new stuff each week. I had applied to Clarion West multiple times, and finally got accepted the 2nd or 3rd time (I don't remember), and was admitted late in the process. I was later told that I was on the bubble and was accepted when another student couldn't make it, so I was filled with self-doubt as to my writing ability. I did ask one of my instructors as to why, what my weakness was, what did I not have that the other writers did have. I was told to think of myself as a pinch hitter, not as a runner up. Nice of that instructor to say that, but I wasn't convinced. I did learn that Connie Willis and I wrote the same way, we started with plot, and plot created character, not the other way around which was how some other authors approached writing.
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| Clarion West 1993 with Greg Bear |
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| Clarion West 1993 with Lucius Shepard and Alice Turner |
In the late 90s, I was working for Netscape. One of the perks was that you were given a sabbatical after 5 years of service, so in 1998 I took it to attend the Odyssey Writers Workshop, a 6 week writer workshop focused on speculative fiction: science fiction, fantasy, and horror. Odyssey was a new workshop, founded in 1996, taught by Jeanne Cavelos, known for launching and editing the well-received Abyss line of horror books. She would have guest lecturers for two days: Patricia A McKillip, John Crowley, James Morrow, Ellen Kushner & Delia Sherman (as a team), Warren Lapine (editor), and Harlan Ellison who was teaching for a whole week.
OMG, Harlan Ellison!
I read Deathbird Stories when I was kid and Dangerous Visions, and Again, Dangerous Visions. I loved his work.
The guest lecturers were also amazing. I'm also a big fan of Patricia A McKillip and James Morrow. Apologies to the other lecturers.
I applied for the workshop -- and got in!
When I went to Clarion West, I didn't bring any books for the instructors to sign. I had no idea that I should do that. But Rob Vamosi who worked at a book store brought books by every author and got them signed. I saw how the instructor's eyes lit up when he did that. So, at local conventions, I started to bring books to be signed by authors. This year, I packed my suitcase and brought books. I already had a few books signed by Harlan Ellison when he had attended local conventions, so I didn't bring those. I went to my local used book store and looked for books I didn't have. They were scarce and I found a few beat up books. I had a copy of Fantasy and Science Fiction magazine with Harlan's Jeffty was Five in it. I had kept in on my shelf for 20 years, but one year, I had decided to clear out shelf space and discarded it. Then I had gotten into Odyssey with Harlan teaching. And I had thrown it away! Oops.
The Effectiveness of Workshops
From my Clarion West 1993 workshop, only one author did well: Louise Marley. She went on to publish several books.
From my Odyssey 1998 workshop, only one author did well: Carrie Vaughn. She has published multiple short stories and novels. One of them on the New York Times bestseller's list.
The workshops do make you a better reader and writer, but Marta Randall was right about persistence. A lot of people give up. See, there was a reason I brought that up earlier. Foreshadowing!
I don't mean others haven't done well, but in the genre field they haven't made a name for themselves.
Odyssey 30th Year Anniversary -- or why I wrote this
Recently, Odyssey held a 30th anniversary zoom meeting with old graduates. I had hoped to see my old classmates, but only Carrie Vaughn showed up from my class. I was great to see her and Jeanne, but damn, we've gotten old.
We were prompted to talk about key learning moments from our workshops and there were some interesting anecdotes. Basically Jeanne is a great teacher, giving out custom advice for each student, helping them on their journey to be better writers.
I decided to tell a Harlan story.
One of the attendees commented that they thought we weren't supposed to talk about Harlan week. The first rule of Fight Club, is you don't talk about Fight Club.
A few graduates of Odyssey had passed away, Julia Duncan and Larry Hall. Harlan Ellison had passed away, and so did his wife, Susan.
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| Susan and Harlan Ellison at Odyssey 1998 |
Carrie reminded us that the lectures were recorded on cassette tapes. And are available for people to listen to.
If I don't tell these stories, who will? Are they to be lost?
We are what our memories are. I will not let these memories be erased by time and death. I will rage into the night. Or at least into the vast emptiness known as the internet. 😊
The Story Begins -- HE arrives. (HE = Harlan Ellison)
There was great anticipation as to the arrival of Harlan Ellison. In Odyssey's early days, we stayed at visitor housing, various townhouses on a tiny New Hampshire college campus. Two students per townhouse with our own bedrooms. I learned about noseeums (small mosquitoes) and had to buy a blanket because the thin blanket they gave us wasn't warm enough to sleep under. My roommate was Steve Prete. The running joke was that the mosquito was the state bird. I bought a lottery scratch-off ticket that was mosquito themed. To win money, you had to find 3 mosquitoes in a row before you hit either a fly swatter or bug spray. The townhouses were middling, clean, slightly rundown, nothing like a Hilton or Hyatt. Outside each townhouse was a small corkboard for tacking up messages in case you were out.
Jeanne and a few volunteers went to the townhouse that was to be Harlan's and his wife, Susan's. We did the run through and Jeanne thought it would be amusing to create an interactive story puzzle for Harlan. Students were tasked to make various paper props that we would tack up on the small cork board outside of the condo. I laid down on the living room floor and Jeanne used masking tape to make a dead body outline on the floor. The story was supposed to be some student drug deal gone wrong.
The legend was that Harlan is a super observer of details and human behavior. He tells a story about how he sees a couple at a restaurant, the woman is upset, and he approaches them and immediately tells the woman to not trust the man. His only clue? He was wearing a wedding ring and she wasn't. So obviously they were having an affair. I believe the woman flees the restaurant.
So, we were banking on Harlan figuring out our puzzle.
Harlan arrives. We have an evening meet and greet with him and his wife. In the morning, one of the students just vanished. According to Julia Duncan, he had just packed up and left. That guy was a bit weird.
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| Harlan in a camo t-shirt, bootcamping us on writing. |
We've already had a few weeks of Milford style of critiquing, so we should be up to speed on listening to critiques and taking in feedback. He told us that I was at the foothills of incompetence, but compared to me, Carrie Vaughn was on top of the Mount Everest of incompetence. Who got on the New York Times Best Seller list? See? Foreshadowing paid off again!
Harlan handed out cheap fridge magnets, with aliens printed on them, as rewards for good work. I got 4 of those Attaboys.
At some point, finally, Harlan asked me about the body outline, he was angry and thought it was a death threat. I played dumb. Also I was too embarrassed and afraid to admit the truth. I swung by the outside of his townhouse and noticed the paper props were still untouched on the cork board, I checked the push pin holes and such. He had only seen the body outline. So much for the legend of being a super observer.
After the workshop, I actually left a phone message for Harlan explaining the whole thing to him. He returned the call, and left a message on my answering machine. He didn't chew me out and spit my remains onto hot coals before flushing it down a toilet. I have that tape somewhere, but I don't even have a cassette player anymore. I remember it was graciously apologetic.
Shopping with Harlan and Susan -- business, business, business
The townhouses were a bit basic. Harlan and Susan needed a tea kettle, so I took them to the local megamart (it was a Sears or something) where I bought my blanket. At one point, they were discussing whether to buy the cheapie tea kettle or the nicer one. If they got the nicer one, they'd take it home. I think they got the nicer one.
But I was thinking, what? WTF? Don't you have a lot of money? This is the same conversation my parents would have, trying to save money.
I also remember that Marty Hiller was upset about Susan and couldn't understand how Susan was wasting her life, as an intelligent woman, subsuming her life with Harlan's. Marty was a PhD.
Susan dealt with the business side of Harlan's life. At some point, we were handed order forms for Harlan books. We all bought books (at full retail) and he signed them all. He also brought various knick-knacks. A dancing Flubber toy from Robin Williams that he didn't want. I believe Walt Cuirle took it home to his kids.
Harlan told us he didn't like writing with a computer and loved using his typewriter. First thing was the tactile feel of it. Next was that it forced you to take time to compose what you were writing versus vomiting your thoughts onto the paper which a word processor lets you do. You can type as fast as you can think without thinking what about what you are writing, whether it was garbage or worse. Lastly, you can sell your original typewritten manuscript. No one wants a printout.
He also told us to put into our contracts a clause to have an option to buy back your remainders (unsold books) at the publisher's pulping price. Then you can autograph and resell them at retail prices. Also request at least 3 author's copies on your contract. One to read, one to put into your archives, one to sell (if you had to).
When I visited his townhouse, he had his typewriter staged in the middle of the living room. It sat by itself on a small table with a chair. It was the oddest thing.
Harlan asked me why I didn't visit more often, he said others did. I forgot what I told him, but the truth was, I had a ton of homework. He made us write a story a day. To prevent us from handing in trunk stories, he gave us daily topics to write about. The normal pace was one story a week. Generally, the previous week's story was critiqued the following week. And we had to read everyone else's story. When you had to write a story a day, and you're short on sleep, a lot of garbage gets written -- which we had to read and critique. Our tempers got short. When would I have time to socialize?
There was also an issue of Harlan's fee for teaching at Odyssey. He wanted more money because he was "saving" Odyssey. Jeanne stood her ground and insisted Odyssey existed because of her efforts and it didn't need saving. Well, hindsight is 2020. Harlan taught only one week. Jeanne taught 6 weeks every year. Odyssey made it to the 30th anniversary. Guess who was right? Persistence matters.😀Foreshadowing strikes again!
At one point, my roommate told me that Harlan had bought his story for The Last Dangerous Visions (TLDV). I was glad for Steve Prete. TLDV finally saw print in 2024 after Harlan died. I was sad to see that Steve's story didn't make the final cut. Straczynski's introductory essay on Harlan made a lot of sense. I actually thought TLDV was just an excuse for Harlan to give new authors hope by buying a story from them and saying, you made the cut, keep on writing. Before attending Odyssey, Stephen Chambers had already sold a two novel series and he was just a high school kid. During Clarion West, Patrizia DiLucchio sold a story to Alice Turner of Playboy, unfortunately it wasn't published, but she collected the full payment as a kill fee. In those days, Playboy paid an amazing amount of money, $2000 for a story. Playboy and Omni paid real money for stories, not 5 cents a word.
One night, Julia Duncan was in distress, either a panic attack or a heart attack. Harlan sat with her and told us about his acid reflux and his experiences with his open heart surgery. Eventually, Julia went to the hospital. At some point, she returned to class.
At another point, another student (I shouldn't say whom) wound up in the fetal position in his room. His roommate alerted us, word spread, and we tried to comfort him. Not sure what had happened there. What we did get out of him was definitely Harlan related.
I got my books signed and Harlan complained about the condition of some of the books, the ones I found at the used bookstore. Oops. More embarrassment. I muttered some excuse. I should have lied to him and just told him they were well loved. I guess he wanted to sign mint first edition hardbacks that were never read. 🙃
I was also writing articles for Speculations, a magazine for genre authors. The magazine had gotten a few nominations for a Hugo. Kent Brewster, the publisher had asked me to do an interview with Harlan since I had access. I asked Harlan for permission and he said only on the stipulation that he got final edit. I decided not to.
HE leaves -- an oath of secrecy.
On the last day, Harlan suddenly becomes a nice guy and tells us we can now ask him any question and he'll answer them. By then, we're all burned out. The top two pictures are from the last day. You can see the townhouses behind us.
From Clarion West, I had a notebook, where I asked each lecturer for writing advice. I did this because I didn't do what Rob Vamosi did, bring books to be signed, so I had them write something in my notebook.
I did the same thing at Odyssey. But lesson learned, I also brought books to be signed.
Earlier in the week, I had asked Harlan to write in my notebook, but he declined. He was interested in what Connie Willis wrote though. I thought this was a bit curious, but thought nothing of it, until I heard about the Connie Willis / Harlan Ellison groping incident at the 2006 Hugos.
On the last day, I decided to not ask Harlan to write in my notebook. I was too tired to deal with it. And my image of him was greatly tarnished.
Harlan left us with a promise to not talk about Harlan week. A secret held between all of us. He told us what we experienced was life.
Maybe a year later, I stood in line at a convention to say hello to Harlan and Susan. He was signing books. I finally got to the front of the line to say hello. I got a courteous hello, nothing else. I think he didn't recognize me. Disappointed, I walked a way. Susan saw what had happened and intercepted me and said a few kind words and made an excuse for Harlan.
When Ellen Kushner and Delia Sherman taught at Odyssey (tag team teaching), right after Harlan had left, they heard what a can crushing moment Harlan had been. Their response? Teaching doesn't have to be like that. There's no reason for it.
Looking back, there was a big ball of ego there. It was all about creating a mystique and self-promotion.
There was nothing that had happened during Harlan week that was a secret handshake, secret sauce, or answers to the mysteries of the universe. No tap from a magic wand that anointed you as being the next best selling author. No reason for a "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" promise.
I enjoyed my experiences at Odyssey and my week with Harlan. I ate lunch with him at the cafeteria, the food was horrible, but for some reason Harlan liked it. Went shopping with him and his wife. Chatted with Susan. Hung out with him in the evening when he brought back some horrible Japanese soda and got Sean Finn to try it. Sean gagged. During class, something happened and I blurted out that Sean had drunk stuff worse than that. Not thinking that it would be taken the wrong way, as a fellatio reference. Sean was taken aback and I reminded him of the soda he drank. All was forgiven.
Heh, good times.
You have this idealized view of someone. But then you meet them. As per The Matrix, "He's still only human."
Sometimes you shouldn't meet your heroes.
Here's a copy of an article I wrote for Speculations, in lieu of the interview that never happened.
