Mark Pomeroy has been a Writers in the Schools (WITS) instructor with Literary Arts’ Youth Programs since 2005. Over the past 20 years, he has taught creative writing through all of our partnered Portland Public Schools, most recently at Benson and Roosevelt.
Mark’s 2024 novel The Tigers of Lents recently won an Independent Publishers Book Award—a Gold Medal for Best Regional Fiction (West-Pacific). It was also a finalist for the National Indie Excellence Award in Literary Fiction. Read our Q+A with Mark about his experience teaching creative writing to high schoolers and his advice for writers of all ages.
Q: Your most recent novel, The Tigers of Lents, was partly inspired by a WITS residency. Can you speak more to that?
A: Yes, the initial seeds came from a WITS residency. In 2011, I was the last writer-in-residence at Marshall High School in Lents. The school district had just chosen Marshall, out of all the city’s high schools, for closure, citing budget issues. It was a major blow to that community, which had been cut in half by a freeway a few decades earlier. I found myself, before each teaching day, sitting in the school’s parking lot and taking some notes, the freeway noise filling my car. The seeds of a new novel were growing, and they connected to parts of my childhood. I was angry about the closure.
Q: Tell us about other experiences you have had teaching creative writing to high school students.
A: What I’ve witnessed in each WITS residency over twenty-one years: kindness, intelligence, genuineness. At each school, all around Portland, I work with smart, kind, funny kids who want to tap something deeper in themselves, improve their skills, and not be constantly distracted or mired in shallowness. They want to pause long enough for some eye contact and for people to know their name. They’d like to connect in substantive ways with life, and many of them come to realize that creative writing—the process of it, the struggle, the discoveries—can help them do this. If they’re open to it.
Q: What was your relationship to writing when you were in high school?
A: Good lord. I worked on the school newspaper and was fairly deft at writing papers for class, but I was lazy and seduced by the idea of cleverness. I had little sense of what it takes to write something crisp, vivid, and true. To pare away fluff and half-truths. Many of my students write better than I did when I was their age. They have a better sense of revision, that’s for sure.
Q: Describe your career path to becoming a published author.
A: David James Duncan once said at a reading, in the mid ’90s, “The hard way is the unforgettable way.” That sentence resonated with me as a young writer trying to learn the craft. I’ve taken the long road, written a lot of novels and novellas that will stay in the drawer. It’s been challenging, satisfying, brutal at times, wonderful at others. There are no shortcuts. Most writers know this.
Q: How has teaching helped you with your own writing process?
A: For the first few hours of the day, I’m working at my desk, alone. That’s important time. If I don’t show up, the work doesn’t get done. But after lunch it’s usually time to go out and share a bit of what I’ve learned about the writing life, about the power of words and literature, and try to help kids not only improve their writing skills but feel more welcome in the world. Writing and unhurried reading of compelling poems and stories connect kids to a more elemental part of themselves that they often can’t otherwise access in such a frenzied era.
This, too: Teaching, like writing, requires quality preparation, each time out. Sleep, good exercise, reading, lots of practice. Years of putting in the work, yeah, but also of finding ways to be refreshed.
Q: What is your number one piece of advice for young writers (and writers of any age)?
A: There are no perfect conditions.
Q: What are you currently reading?
A: Legends of the Fall [by Jim Harrison]
Q: Is there anything else you would like to add?
A: At the end-of-year gathering for WITS writers and teachers a couple of weeks ago, I read the following journal entry as a belated response to Olivia’s query for returning writers at last fall’s orientation meeting [Olivia Jones Hall is Literary Arts’ Director of Youth Programs]. “Why WITS?” she asked. “What keeps you coming back?” At the orientation, I had just wanted to listen.
Why WITS:
It has felt vital in each of my years with the program.
It allows kids to slow down a bit, pay closer attention to the world and to language.
It can bolster a kid’s life, connect them to the deeper layers and untapped dimensions of imagination — something essential inside of them. They can be honest, wild, cheeky, bold on the page.
The residencies, of course, occur at a crucial point in their lives. Here’s a way of being: a bit slower, more open, more attuned to what actually matters.
Here, also, is an opportunity for practice. For revision. For getting a better understanding of the actual process in writing (and in many areas of life).
In a WITS residency there are moments when time dissolves. We’re in a wider field, together. For precious minutes, we shun frenzy. We aim for the heart of the matter. We aim for lean, strong lines that rise over the headlines.
In many cases, WITS is a lifeline.
