By Grace Schutte, Carlee Shimek, and Thomas DeLapp
The International Writing Center Association (IWCA) conference began Oct. 26 and ran through the 29th with Writing Center Directors and students — both graduates on the road to director-hood and passionate undergrads — gathering from around the world to join us in rainy Vancouver for three days of discussion, reflection, and overall nerdy goodness.
“While attending the multitude of presentations scheduled at the conference was important to us as participants and fellow presenters, immersing ourselves in the atmosphere of our host city, Vancouver, was quite an experience as well.”
While attending the multitude of presentations scheduled at the conference was important to us as participants and fellow presenters, immersing ourselves in the atmosphere of our host city, Vancouver, was quite an experience as well. It was the perfect city for the first IWCA conference held outside the United States.
Vancouver of British Columbia, Canada, regardless of its fancy, modern skyscrapers, possessed a calming air, probably thanks to being a seaport city. We managed to stroll along one of its proudest features, the longest waterfront path in the world, The Seawall. We didn’t have the time (nor the quads) to traverse all 17.5 miles, but we enjoyed the miles, with many beaches and ships in the water, along Stanley Park, a wonderful public park that’s larger than Central Park.
Though not directly along the ocean shore, Vancouver is a marvelous water city with the English Bay, Vancouver Harbor, and Burrard Inlet surrounding it. For some reason, the neighborhood around our conference’s hotel was quite fond of water decor too. We saw at least 6 beautifully structured waterfall architectures while walking to different attractions and locales for lunch.
Speaking of lunch, many delicious, diverse eateries were abundant throughout the city. From Thai chicken to Mexican burritos to Canadian poutine, there was no lack of options for tastebuds. The city prides itself on being one of the most diverse in Canada.
Another alluring attraction we visited was Granville Island. It’s a misnomer as the location is a peninsula attached to the southern part of Vancouver. The northern peninsula of the city (where our conference was) is separated from Granville by an inlet, False Creek. You can take a teeny ferry to the location (though you literally could swim, it’s that close) where we visited a farmers market, some artists’ galleries, and many local shops.
It felt like the Eau Claire Downtown Farmers Market, just on a larger scale. The view of the city from Granville Island, with its lights twinkling in the darkening sky was very relaxing after days of hard, philosophical thinking on the ethics and innovations of writing centers.
With a progressive and inclusive style, Vancouver is perfect as a weekend getaway for an anniversary or serene family vacation. It has something for everyone, and all with manageable distance from each other (by foot and car). Perhaps we may one day be able to visit again (for another conference, let’s hope!) and experience the Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Classical Chinese Garden or the Pacific Arts Market and more.
Within the glass castle-like hotel where the conference took place, many astounding discussions and innovative ideas relating to writing centers were enjoyed.
Those in attendance wore their best button ups, comfortable presenting shoes, and super-dooper official IWCA issued lanyards — an academic sea of smart blazers and slacks. With the schedule posted online, people could choose which sessions they wished to attend. But with twelve different presentations to select from each hour, it was nearly impossible to decide with so many exceptional options.
Sessions began every day at 9 a.m. in the various ballrooms and meeting halls found throughout the conference's hotel. While scurrying from one room to the next, folks would grab a cup of coffee and maybe a little snack between sessions — sometimes a fruit kabob, a semi-gelatinous chia seed yogurt, or a classic peanut-butter cookie. The Wall Center took good care of us.
The last round kicked off at 4:30 p.m., giving us Writing Center folk many opportunities to sit in on various presentations and roundtables — shorter presentations followed by an open discussion between the presenters and audience members (as is our Writing Center nature).
A de facto theme we noticed throughout was the colonial nature of writing: How academia has implemented rigid expectations and standards that invalidate multilingual students, those who don’t fit into the white-sounding “American”-English standard, and who may find sitting down and writing at a desk for extended periods to be inaccessible.
Throughout the conference, directors and students alike advocated for the decolonizing of writing, spoke on the shifting of societal perceptions of “perfect English” and grammar, and how to ensure Writing Centers can be harborers of this change in not only our spaces and departments but in the world.
It was also brought to our attention how strongly our pedagogy and manner of speech are strongly United States-oriented. On several occasions, directors from Canada and Mexico commented on the U.S.-centered nature of the literature. There is work to be done, not only in how we tutor student writers but in how we continue and grow our scholarship.
“By happy coincidence, we three CVWG interns this semester are colleagues in the university Center for Writing Excellence. Together with our director (and Guild board member), Dr. Jonathan Rylander, we presented a roundtable: “Invisibly Here: The Future of Life Writing in Writing Centers.””
We, too, wanted to talk about these big issues in our own Eau Claire ways. By happy coincidence, we three CVWG interns this semester are colleagues in the university Center for Writing Excellence. Together with our director (and Guild board member), Dr. Jonathan Rylander, we presented a roundtable: “Invisibly Here: The Future of Life Writing in Writing Centers.”
One of the reasons we wanted to write to you all today is because each member of the CVWG is doing life writing in their own way, every day. But what is life writing? That’s precisely what we talked about. Though it’s been used in various contexts for a couple of decades, the term “life writing” doesn’t have a particularly good definition. And we struggled to come up with one, too.
Basically, we decided that life writing means any writing involving the writer's life. We typically think about it in academic contexts, where students are writing critical essays, rhetorical analyses, and generally not having any fun at all. We know that students thrive and learn more from meaningful writing projects. Meaningfulness is calculated by the student's engagement with the project, the lasting transfer (will I be able to use this in my life?), and whether or not they feel personally connected to it.
Personal connection to a piece can be most easily accomplished by including some aspects of the writer’s life. Surprise! That can be hard, though. Without getting too into the details, our presentation argued that writing centers have a unique opportunity to be places where students can engage more with themselves, with the person and voice inside their writing. And, we argue, writing centers have already been doing this kind of life writing work all along, without realizing it.
But life writing isn’t purely in academic contexts. It’s for every writer. How do your identities, insecurities, and personality affect your writing process? How do they affect your writing? No matter how hard you might try to make a piece as dry and ineffectual as you can, spoiler alert: you are still writing it. You are still going to be there.
“Writing matters only because you matter. ”
What can we learn if we embrace ourselves in our writing instead of running away? How will our writing and writing process change? The three of us think these are questions every writer should ask themselves. From historical fiction to journalism, to fantasy, sci-fi, and memoir, you, the author, should be present and comfortable in that text. Your writing is important because of the life that writes it. Writing matters only because you matter.