Dr. Laurie Weeks
Writing Wild Style™
Workshops

presents

Countdown to 2012:
Writing Your Way Out of the Rubble

Hi! What feral children, data-entry clerks, prison matrons, char girls, are bound and gagged beneath the floorboards of your soul? What Enchanted Beings exiled to the Lower Realms are secretly giving you all these symptoms? There’s only one way to find out—that’s right, it’s time once again for a writing workshop with Dr. Weeks! Come for the examination, stay for the revelations. You’re not who they say you are—and I’ll prove it.

The journey from diagnosis to deathless poetic prose is a perilous one, but you won’t be alone. You’ll have your own multiple personalities, as well as the loving accompaniment of your fellow passenger/patients. The key word here is psychedelia. Let’s just leave it at that. The most important thing to remember is that you’ll be lovingly nurtured as you write your way toward that rapturous space where invisible whatevers burst through in new and startling forms. I hope we even recognize them!

Assignments and awesome readings will be provided each week. You can use these to create new work, or to help you with ongoing projects. You can work on scripts, performances, and any prose-type things you like.

The workshop will meet for 3 hours one night a week for 8 weeks. 10 participants maximum. Class starts the 2nd week of September, on a week night to be determined by the participants.

Cost is $350. If you’re interested, email me and include a li’l sample of your work. I’ll get right back to you. The classes are always intense and superfun. Also they’re not really even that intense.



Testimonial – Dear Dr. Weeks, I attended your Writing Wild Style™ workshop in 2004. It's been 2 years and I have not had fibromyalgia pain since then! Thank you for spreading the word that we CAN take our lives into our own hands and heal ourselves with prose exercises! I've passed on your books to many people and have told my medical doctor, chiropractor and massage therapist about your work. Blessings, Helen Benko, Ontario.



Greetings, Doctor! When me and my family of teenage girls came to you they was all in back pain and had no hair, plus juvenile delinquents who was flunking. You made me and my ex-wife go home and then I guess you read The Holographic Universe out loud to my daughters and made them pretend to be writing the journals of Film Stars of the French Avant Garde. Well, when my 3 girls came home they had heads full of long glossy curly hair and were very clean, with stylish glasses! They also got jobs and moved away to New York City. They don’t even bother me and my wife with phone calls no more! Thanks, Dr. Weeks!
Brad




Dr. Weeks, I attended your workshop in Burnaby on March 11, 2006. I was not ill and went to satisfy my own curiosity. I had read your story Debbie’s Barium Swallow at that time and since have acquired and read excerpts from Zipper Mouth. When I say I was not ill it's because I do not consider chronic debilitating shoulder pain that interrupts sleep and goes on for several years illness, rather I thought of it as expectable wear and tear on an aging body. At the break however, after the mornings healing session, where we discussed Lynda Barry’s book Cruddy, and how The Dad wanted to murder Cruddy, the young girl, I realized that my shoulder was pain free. Being the sceptic that I am I have not written sooner than this because I wanted to give my shoulder plenty of time to return to it's former painful state. Today is July 14th and I think it's time to tell you that I am convinced my shoulder is healed. I have loaned your stories out many times and continue to encourage others to enter this path of learning. Many, many thanks to you and your cats/friends for supporting all girls with your gifts.
Posted by Stephanie




Testimonial – A year ago I emailed you asking for one-on-one treatments. The other doctors told me to go home and be with my family because I will probably die. I had tremendous abdominal pain, diarrhea, severe anemia. My platelet count was down and I had MRIs, CT scans, barium enema and colonoscopy to try to find out what the diagnosis was, aside from countless blood and stool tests. I dropped from 112 lbs to 79 lbs and I could not eat. Everything I ate cause even more pain. I was so weak and in so much pain I could barely walk and crawled most of the time. As a matter of fact, I crawled to the subway one day and just by chance I saw your ad for Dr. Weeks Writing Wild Style™ workshops next to Doctor Zizmor. Anyway I emailed you immediately but apparently you were too busy to answer, so, in desperation I crawled all the way over to your doorstep to express my disappointment, but your handlers picked me up and threw me in your basement, which is where I am now, did you think I was too stupid to use this computer, you bitch? Or did you just forget about it, probably having 4 giant MACs upstairs from all your asshole books that everyone knows you TALK ABOUT BUT NEVER FINISH LET ALONE PUBLISH. You are the biggest charlatan of them all, and when I get out of this fucking basement where I am turning my rage into a masterpiece, rest assured I will crawl upstairs to that ivory tower where you sit NOT WRITING YOUR SO-CALLED “NOVEL” [i.e. piece of shit] and I will KILL you with my weak, bare hands and then write a best-selling true crime book about it from prison, where it is I, not you, Dr. Weeks, who will be giving writing workshops to the Lesbians, and it is I who will be telling the prison matron to go fuck herself, only this time it’ll be for real, and not in my mind, like the fantasy world of lies and shattered dreams you are so busy selling to lonely girls full of disease and no hope!
Keepin it real,
Christine



Dear Unsuspecting Victims of Dr. Weeks: If you care about ART, do NOT take this workshop!!! In the 10 minutes of her class that I attended before leaving in a rage, I felt like John Lennon being infantilized by Yoko Ono. Dr. Weeks makes you feel like a stupid little baby because you don’t ever even understand one word she says, nor did she ever mention the Triumph of the Human Spirit, which all the great male writers say is what makes great writing! Everybody felt really good about themselves in her class, plus no one in her class was spelling anything the write way, and still she didn’t say ONE MEAN THING! I felt like a baby, not a writing student! As noted before!

Eat shit and die,
Camille Paglia