Ollie Sikes

10 December 2022
EN 219-02
Furuness

Beyond the Classroom Plan Report

Accountability Check

The one goal from my original plan that I was able to hit was going to Jo Ann Beard’s

reading on December 1st. Everything else was either unachievable or had to be altered. I was

busy with the Butler theatre mainstage Limbus Time for all of October. Consequently, I could not

go to Viet Thanh Nguyen’s reading on October 20th due to having a rehearsal that evening. And

because Manuscripts was hosting an art contest through November, there were no prose

submissions for me to read during that time. And once December arrived, there were no

Manuscripts submissions at all.

However, I made up for missing Viet Thanh Nguyen’s reading by going to another

reading in December. On December 9th, I went to the Indy Reads bookstore to attend a reading

by prose writer Lisa Hendrickson. Thus, I reached the two-event minimum for my plan, even if I

had to change it.

Jo Ann Beard

On December 1st, I went to Butler’s last Visiting Writers’ Series event of the fall

semester, where Jo Ann Beard read her essay “Now” from her book Festival Days.

I remember thinking the night of Beard’s reading that Beard was not the most animated

reader. For that reason, I was slow to warm up to her. However, by the end of the reading, I was

surprised to find that I was moved by her essay anyway. Not because of how she read it, but

because of what was in it. She had managed to tie important memories of her father with a larger
theme of writing in the moment in an essay that only took her a few hours to write. “Now” was,

at its core, a long stream of subconscious thought that still managed to be coherent, which is a

kind of writing that I adore. In fewer words, I found Beard’s work to be quite impressive.

I had asked Beard if she had edited any of her thoughts while writing “Now,” and she

said something that shocked me. “I am proud of this essay because I didn’t labor over it. It was

years’ worth of thinking put into an afternoon of writing,” she said. There are thousands of ways

to interpret this response. But right now, I think what Beard meant was that she had already

perfected these thoughts and memories in her mind. All she needed to do was put them down on

paper, which of course would make the writing process easy.

I guess, then, that what I learned from Beard’s reading was that “good” prose does not

have to be fictional. Of course, there are plenty of famous prose pieces that are fictional. But I

think that it takes a special kind of skill to write prose about one’s life. Writing about reality does

not require hours of labor, because life is already beautiful and intricate on its own. Beard did not

have to overthink every sentence she wrote because she was, in a way, retelling a story rather

than creating a new one. And even though Beard’s story is not fictional, it is still original

because only Beard lived the life written in “Now.”

I have considered writing a book about my journey as a trans person. And after hearing

Beard’s essay, I am only considering it more. Thus, I think that, going forward, I need to study

Beard’s work closely, along with work like Beard’s. Because even though my life already tells a

compelling story, I need to write that story in a skillful way. If I am going to write about

nonfiction rather than fiction, I need to master a whole different set of skills.
Lisa Hendrickson

On December 9th, I went to the Indy Reads bookstore to hear Lisa Hendrickson read from

her latest novel Burning the Breeze.

Like Beard, Hendrickson’s selected writing was nonfiction. But instead writing about her

own life, Hendrickson told the story of the first woman to own a dude ranch in Montana: Julia

Bennett. Or, rather, the beginning of the story, since she only read the first chapter of the book.

In a way, Burning the Breeze was like a history lecture, but more exciting. So, I guess what

surprised me the most during Hendrickson’s reading was that history, even with its more obscure

stories, can be written in an exciting way.

After the reading, I asked Hendrickson how one could write good historical nonfiction

without changing anything that happened in real life. I asked this because, if I was going to write

good historical nonfiction, I was going to do it in a respectful manner. Hendrickson said that her

main method was building suspense, like ending each chapter on a cliffhanger, for example. If

the reader did not know the story, then they could become easily invested in Burning the Breeze.

And if they did know the story, then they could appreciate history being told in an exciting way.

Another method was building off the drama already present in the history, which I think is a

good crutch to lean on.

I also noticed that Hendrickson possessed various documents that gave a glimpse into the

history of Julia Bennett, such as newspaper clippings and photos. It was clear that Hendrickson

dedicated a lot of her time to research Bennett’s story so that she could tell it properly. Thus, I

learned from Hendrickson that, if I want to write historical nonfiction, I not only need to

complete hours of research, but I also need to pick a story that I am willing to research

extensively. After all, why would I waste time researching history I do not care about?
 I do not think I will ever write a novel that is entirely historical nonfiction. However, if I

am going to write about transgenderism, I probably need to be familiar with famous stories about

trans people of history. And I need to be able to tell those stories both respectfully and skillfully.

So, what I need to do now is study Hendrickson’s work and think about histories that I am

willing to research. If I am going to explore historical nonfiction, I need to put in the work.