classes, community, writing Ethan Gilsdorf classes, community, writing Ethan Gilsdorf

Take an online writing workshop with me this winter & spring


The downside of Covid is I don't get to teach in person. The upside is that all my classes are now on Zoom or online and anyone regardless of location can be a part of my writing workshops. Here's what I'm offering this winter and spring (thus far). I hope you'll join us!


GrubStreet Seminars and Multiweek workshops: 

**Note: Due to Coronavirus, for the time being, all GrubStreet classes in Boston and Providence will be offered remotely, online, live via Zoom video conferencing. More info on how this works.

Seminars:

So You Want to Be a Writer in 2021? Section C - Remote!: Friday, February 5th, from 2:00pm-5:00pm

So You Want to Be a Writer in 2021?: Section D - Remote!: Friday, March 19th, 10:30am-1:30pm

Personal Narrative Essentials: Building Characters, Friday, February 12th, 10:00am-5:00pm

Personal Narrative Essentials: Structure and Form, Friday, February 26th, 10:00am-5:00pm

Generator Bootcamp, Friday, March 5th, 10:30am-1:30pm

Personal Narrative Essentials: Using Research and Immersion, Friday, March 12th, 10:00am-5:00pm

Personal Narrative Essentials: Finding Your Narrative Arc, Friday, March 26th, 10:00am-5:00pm

Personal Narrative Essentials: How to Publish, Friday, April 16th, 10:00am-5:00pm

 

Multi-week workshops:

Remote (Zoom) workshops:

Writing the Risky Personal Essay, 6 Thursdays, 10:30am-1:30pm, starting April 8

6 Weeks, 6 Op-Eds, Wednesdays from 10:30am-1:30pm, starting March 10th.

Online Multi-week, asynchronous workshops:

Online: 6 Weeks, 3 Essays, 6 Weeks, starting January 20th

 

In PROVIDENCE, for GrubStreet:
None at this time. Please see GrubStreet's Providence page for current info on all classes being offered in Providence. 

Other venues:

The Westerly Writers Workshop: Online Memoir classes. Westerly, RI, at the Ocean Community YMCA, Westerly-Pawcatuck Branch. Classes will be held remotely via Zoom. 

6 Wednesdays, 6:00pm-9:00pm

Session 1: January 27 – March 3. Register here.

Session 2: May 19 – June 23. ;Registration info TBA.

Stay tuned for Summer 2021 sessions TBA soon.

 

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Study the essay with me September 2020-April 2021


Take your essays to the next level and apply to GrubStreet's Essay Incubator program, our eight-month (September to April) intensive program for writers seeking high-level feedback on their essays, immersion in a community of essay writers, and a leg up on the publishing world. I'm your fearless leader on this creative writing adventure.

More info on the program here. If you have questions about the program or application process, or if you're unsure you're a good match for the program, please drop by the remote (Zoom) Open House & Info Session on July 14. For more info on that, and to tegister: http://ow.ly/tvjY50AmXF5

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article, essay, writing Ethan Gilsdorf article, essay, writing Ethan Gilsdorf

How did I get my mojo back?


In a new stunt-journalism story for the Boston Globe, I spent some time trying to address the problem of growing older, not being hip, losing my grasp of pop culture, and otherwise feeling old. I decided to embark on a Middle Age Makeover. I concocted a quest to regain my musical, pop cultural, technological, and fashion mojo.

BY ETHAN GILSDORF

In a new stunt-journalism story for the Boston Globe, I spent some time trying to address the problem of growing older, not being hip, losing my grasp of pop culture, and otherwise feeling old. 

What happened to that 20- and 30-something dude I once was? I don't look that bad for a 47-year-old. But the idea of trying to be “hip” has been on my mind ever since I turned 47. As I write in the story:

Despite my nerdy backpack-wearing, laptop-carrying, latte-chugging lifestyle, I had begun suspecting I wasn’t the youngest person in the room anymore. My cultural sweet spot hovers somewhere between 1979 and 1999. Sure, I have a smart phone, and have built my obligatory social media identities, but I feel bumbling in my efforts to stay on top of technology. I don’t own a TV, so I miss out on the cult shows. The time when I’d endure long lines at clubs to see bands, even ones I’m oblivious to, was passing. I’m happy staying home and listening to my collection of obscure K-Tel records.

Also: People suddenly call me sir. As in: “Here’s your change, sir,” or “Let me just unlock that case where the teeth-whitening products are, sir.” Do the baggy jeans, cowboy shirts, and running shoes give off old-man cooties? Huh. As time marches forward, and I struggle to identify the latest band artistic icon, trending Internet meme, I wonder if I’ve fallen irrevocably behind.

I decided to embark on a Middle Age Makeover. I concocted a quest to regain my musical, pop cultural, technological, and fashion mojo. You can read the results here.

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Announcing, Dungeons & Dorkwads!

What is a dork-off, you ask? Noble and Ethan, we are not-so-youthful dorks, with an unhealthy attachment to the role-playing games of our glory years — D&D especially — and assorted fantasy, science fictional and pop cultural artifacts. Here at Dungeons & Dorkwads, we exhume and celebrate these lost relics, be they worn dice, faded hand-drawn maps, broken lead figurines, beat-up Tolkien boxed sets or Hoth or Happy Days dioramas. (We’d like to see one that combines both universes.) Then, we geek out about them.

Let the dork-offs begin!

Announcing Dungeons & Dorkwads, a site for all things D&D, nostalgia and bad jokes. In our first post, Noble Smith and I geek out about a 1970s Smaug the Dragon miniature figurine and its resemblance to Pinky Tuscadero, the Fonz's +7 Motorcycle of Shark Tank Jumping, and a hobby shop called Unicorn Castle where they had girls for sale.

What are we trying to accomplish? We’re not sure. What is our mission statement? We don’t have one (yet). But what is this site all about? Dorking-off.

What is a dork-off, you ask? Noble and Ethan, we are not-so-youthful dorks, with an unhealthy attachment to the role-playing games of our glory years — D&D especially — and assorted fantasy, science fictional and pop cultural artifacts. Here at Dungeons & Dorkwads, we exhume and celebrate these lost relics, be they worn dice, faded hand-drawn maps, broken lead figurines, beat-up Tolkien boxed sets or Hoth or Happy Days dioramas. (We’d like to see one that combines both universes.) Then, we geek out about them.

What stories do they unleash from the Tomb of Memories? What did it all mean to us? Were those years in the dungeon a complete waste? We think not. Along the way, we let these dork-offs take us in whatever direction that pleases us. Expect side trips to the lands of Tatooine, Middle-earth, Gilligan’s Island, Lego, and Loni Anderson.

- See more at: http://www.dungeonsanddorkwads.com/whats-a-dork-off/#sthash.unqTcAjf.dpuf

 

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events, horror, news stories, writing Ethan Gilsdorf events, horror, news stories, writing Ethan Gilsdorf

Writing Our Way Through The Terror

As we Boston-area residents have been recovering from the Boston Marathon bombings, the lockdown, and from our media hangovers, out gushed the words, like a fresh wound. Not spoken words, which can evaporate as soon as they are voiced. But stories, written down. This urge to participate and to tell one’s individual story humanizes pain and makes big, sweeping events human-scaled. We cope with trauma by injecting ourselves into the wider story. Sure, we’ve all experienced the flurry of hastily dashed-off texts, sent to loved ones to check in, to say, “We are safe.” But even before the dust settled on Boylston Street, I’d noticed a burst of blog posts, Facebook posts, and other personal accounts popping up on the Internet. Those longer stories that cannot be contained in a mere tweet. All these written words prove our need to find our place within the events. To be part of the story, to insert our own heart and mind into this larger narrative.

A woman carries a girl from their home as a SWAT team searching for a suspect in the Boston Marathon bombings enters the building in Watertown, Mass., Friday, April 19, 2013. (Charles Krupa/AP)An author friend writes a tribute to his country on his Facebook page. A stay-at-home mom, guarding her bevy of children, becomes a citizen reporter on the scene in Watertown, tweeting about the view from her backyard of snipers staking out a position on the roof of her garden shed. An otherwise non-aspiring writer is inspired to try his hand at capturing his version of this past week’s dreamy miasma of exhausting, hand-wringing events.

As we Boston-area residents have been recovering from the Boston Marathon bombings, the lockdown, and from our media hangovers, out gushed the words, like a fresh wound. Not spoken words, which can evaporate as soon as they are voiced. But stories, written down.

Sure, we’ve all experienced the flurry of hastily dashed-off texts, sent to loved ones to check in, to say, “We are safe.” But even before the dust settled on Boylston Street, I’d noticed a burst of blog posts, Facebook posts, and other personal accounts popping up on the Internet. Those longer stories that cannot be contained in a mere tweet.

All these written words prove our need to find our place within the events. To be part of the story, to insert our own heart and mind into this larger narrative. Who doesn’t want to comment, to communicate, to reflect, to engage in some way? Or, as Neil Diamond himself belted out at Fenway Park, to use words as, “Hands, touching hands / Reaching out, touching me, touching you”?

This urge to participate and to tell one’s individual story humanizes pain and makes big, sweeping events human-scaled. The tradition is as old as Homer and the Icelandic Sagas. We cope with trauma by injecting ourselves into the wider story. The gesture says, “I, too, was there.” The gesture also says, “This is how I process grief.” Story helps transform chaos, crisis, and helplessness into something we can retell, and therefore transcend.

 

Read the rest of my commentary "Writing Our Way Through The Terror" for NPR affiliate WBUR

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