Algonkian Writer Conferences - The Ugly Reviews

[Admin_99]

Algonkian Writer Conferences reviews two of the most troll-heavy "reviews" ever encountered by its staff, or for that matter, humans still alive in the 21st century.

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Algonkian Park in Northern Virginia might be described as a lush and calming act of forest rubbing shoulders with the Potomac River, and it was here, twenty-two years ago, that Algonkian Writer Conferences began with a small workshop of five writers. Since then, the grand majority of my own experiences with many hundreds of my fellow writers have been rewarding, and I can truthfully say I've played a productive role in assisting many to secure both agent and publisher contracts. However, during this same time, as Algonkian evolved with new faculty (both agents and publishing house editors) and fresh-rooted into New York and California, the relatively benign flow of interactions could be compromised on rare occasion by something unexpected, and quite frankly, a bit lunatic.

Below are a couple of meandering tales that unfortunately fit under the rubric of Algonkian Writer Conference reviews, and as such, are so incredibly bad I never would have believed them possible had I not lived them from first howl to final tantrum.

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A Mad Hatter Out for Blood

Twelve years ago, in Marin County, I received a phone call at 3 AM on a weekday. Bleary and puzzled, I picked up the landline phone to hear the enraged voice of a popular author I knew in Faifax, Virginia. And what he said jolted me into a shocked awakening. "Who the f**k are they?" he began, yelling into the phone. "They're lying about me, about you... the bastards! Who the f**k are they?"

Since I had zero idea who or what had launched him screaming from the silo, I finally calmed him enough to extract an unexpected and jaw-dropping explanation. He'd set up a Google alert to inform him any time his name was indexed and published by the search engine, and that morning at 6 AM EST, an alert led him to a particular thread on a certain writer chat board (remaining nameless due to my reluctance to provide said board with thousands more visitors). 

And what did this disguised floating blip say that could have turned a mature and regarded literary author and full-time MFA professor into a mad hatter out for blood? 

Within only a few minutes of reading what an anonymous poster had said about him on this thread, he was persuaded to contact me. And what did this disguised floating blip say that could have turned a mature and regarded literary author and full-time MFA professor into a mad hatter out for blood? 

But first, a little scene set. 

Picture your browser window filled with a dull, grey-white background and blocks of typed narrative in a small black font. To the top left of each posted block, residing in its own narrow column, you see the icon and alleged name of the poster, plus info like date joined, etc. Typical chat board layout. Now, for the one in question. You zoom in on the icon and witness a bubbly vibrating fairy. To the right, you read the blocks of text this fidgeting blip as typed. You see "Algonkian Writer Conferences" and something about an upcoming reveal that "will finally tell the truth about this organization stocked with literary frauds and flying sock monkeys!" 

Flying sock monkeys?

It took over a year of investigation, but Algonkian staff discovered the identity of the primary abusers. They operated a competitor writer event in the northeast. No big surprise there. 

For starters, the primary instigator of this massive fraud, Michael Neff (who else?)--in order to make his workshops seem more credible--willfully assisted a local author and college professor to spread a huge lie about winning a certain national literary award for one of his books. Not only that, but the flying sock monkeys that ran Algonkian really didn't feature actual faculty. They were just "driven around in limousines" for a few hours, but never met with anyone. Also, our staff were "waiting at bus stops for dazed MFA grads" to arrive home so we could trick them into taking these workshops with limousine-lounging faculty.

I'm not kidding. Not a bit.

To make a long and ugly story short, the author noted above went on the chat board in question and began a roaring argument with the anonymous tribal members, most of whom resembled beasts or cyborgs. After a few days of wrangling and threats mixed with general acts of denigration and mockery on the part of all, the author finally produced evidence that indeed proved without doubt he had won said literary award, and no chicanery was involved in any way whatsoever. Despite his undeniable proof, the chat board owners refused to remove the post alleging his immoral act. 

Despite his undeniable proof, the chat board owners refused to remove the post alleging his immoral act. 

Following this, at least ten or so Algonkian writers who had learned of this ongoing farce via Facebook stormed the board and opened a new front to battle with the beasts and cyborgs. It must've lasted weeks, but at the conclusion, the chat board shills admitted no wrong and no mistakes. The accused were guilty, the evidence was irrelevant, and the lies multiplied even further. In truth, it was a precursor to the later cancel-culture mobs of Twitter. Regardless, the whole affair was exhausting, stupid, and pointless, only further serving to taint the integrity of the human race. 

It took over a year of investigation, but Algonkian staff discovered the identity of the primary abusers. They operated a competitor writer event in the northeast. No big surprise there. The surprise lay in the fact that the vibrating fantasy blip was actually a well-known editor at a major publishing house who loved playing a roving assassin on various chat boards, not just the one noted here. Also, one of the meanest of the board trolls who ran a close second to the aforementioned blip turned out to be a popular literary agent in New York who also ran a blog that worked 24/7 to insult and cancel everyone she didn't like. No surprise there either.

And still, not kidding. 

To this day, none of them have ever apologized for intentionally lying about that author or for my alleged involvement. Both of these accusations, and more, were acts of per se defamation and therefore legally actionable in civil court, but given the locations of the parties, the cost involved, and additional fallout issues involving the blip's publisher, we let it go. 

I've often regretted that decision.

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The "Terrified One" Smears Far and Wide

Unlike the case above, this one manifested like ash fall on Pompey prior to inundation. It began with incessant phone calls and messages to staff over the course of several weeks from just one person who we finally determined would never be satisfied with reality as it presented itself. Did people at conference workshops sit in circles? Did they sit in half-circles? Did they stand? Sit? Why sitting? Why not a theater-seating kind of arrangement? Why not this? That? And on and on.

Then things got weird. 

Rejected and free of restraints, The Terrified One transmogrified into the hysterically raging one, and the world was her playground.

One of our staff people was trying to help this individual and reaching wit's end. Towards the conclusion of these interactions, the staff person was accused of "terrifying her" with her communications. I looked over the mails and saw absolutely nothing to indicate a hostile or "terrifying" attitude, only a weary human being attempting to help someone desperately striving to acquire a new victim culture medal.

A final email was sent by staff to The Terrified One: 

 

I offered to help you but you chose to become "terrified" though I did nothing to terrify you. Best to reconsider and perhaps some other time. It's not good to approach an event like this with fear and major doubts, and wondering whether or not people sit in circles, or whether you have to be a public speaker, etc. etc. It's just not worth it.

 

Effectively disallowed from attending the actual event (because we all knew that an appearance by this person would certainly result in even more complaints and self-martyrdom) The Terrified One transmogrified into a Nemesis with a holy mission. The fact of this wasn't a shock, however, the sheer relentlessness of the retribution could not have been predicted. Rejected and free of restraints, The Terrified One transmogrified into the hysterically raging one, and the world was her playground.

Nowadays, it's easier to quickly get a court order to force the social media source to divulge information about the user, thus enabling legal action, but back at the time, such action was far more laborious.

The rest is a footnote of a footnote in history. TTO posted screeds of rage, alleging all manner of nefarious intent (nearly identical to the absurdities noted above, thus hinting at direct inspiration) and preposterously conceived fraud on several chat boards, Facebook, Twitter, you name it. Various childish identities were employed over the course of weeks, but the source was obvious.

Nowadays, it's easier to quickly get a court order to force the social media source to divulge information about the user, thus enabling legal action, but back at the time, such action was far more laborious. Most of the offending revenge posts evaporated over time and one or two are left, rising and sinking in the SERPs depending on the nature of the algorithm. 

Damned if we did, and damned if we didn't.

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[EditorAdmin]

The special trolls of the pitch conferences have a place in my heart. Not long ago. a group of them on a chat board even invented the ridiculous lie that the event lasted only one day and then they would rave and carp about it as if reality. At least two, eager to appease the mob, would chime in during the carping and pretend to have attended the very same event, failing to note it was far more than one day and pretending to be victims.

To watch such spontaneous and competitive group performances on Internet can't be said to be pleasurable, but it's usually fascinating to observe, especially when pure fiction.

- Connie Chenowith