As three stage lights shone against the crown of his head where he stood on a carpeted riser, Tom Hallock looked out into the crowd from behind his grey half-rimmed glasses and saw the faces of his family staring back at him.
His 10-year-old son lay sprawled out on a Mexican blanket in front of the stage. His wife and colleague, Julie Armstrong, watched with a smile while bouncing in her Chuck Taylor-style sneakers at the back of the room.
Nearby, student writers and local literary aficionados stole glances at Hallock while they spooned themselves bowls of warm vegetarian chili. Dozens more sat on blankets, lawn chairs or just the floor. On the cool night of Jan. 17, after eight months of paperwork, emails, meetings and tip-toeing, USF St. Petersburg’s creative writing certificate was finally born at the inaugural Broke A$$ Literary Salon.
The process of creating any new program at USF St. Pete is laborious, according to Hallock who—besides teaching English and running the new certificate—serves on the Academic Programs Committee. Putting together the creative writing certificate was no different, even though many of the classes already existed, and no new professorial lines were required.
“It was a pain in the ass, and you can quote me on that,” he said.
Hallock saved the inch-and-a-half thick heap of paperwork in his office to prove it. First he had to forge a proposal and present it to the Academic Programs Committee. He then sought out the College of Arts and Sciences, created a curriculum and passed it through a series of high-profile figures for signatures. Once it had gone to the top of the campus and back, the new program courses were made available to the registrar.
But if creating the new program is a journey, it was a worthy one.
“I think it ensures the quality of a USF St. Pete degree,” he said. “Sometimes it becomes a pain in the neck. But I think the good thing is that it does force you to clarify and do it right.”
Hallock, who holds a Ph.D. in English from New York University, has been writing “since puberty.” He got an electric typewriter from SEARS for his 16th birthday, and his dad used to bring home reams of paper from work.
“I think it was in the seventh grade I won the Corinth, Miss., library poetry contest,” he said. “I wrote a poem about the Battle of Corinth. It preceded the Battle of Shiloh—it was a big battle in the Civil War. So I’ve always written, I’ve always loved writing, I’ve always loved literature.”
When Hallock moved to Tampa Bay, he found a wealth of writing talent. The obvious move was to connect them all. He and Armstrong set up something called the Tampa Bay Writers Network—something that still exists today, but “kind of died.” Still, Hallock remained connected to local writers through the Studio@620, City of Writers and other ways.
“I keep trying to find the handle or hook to get it going,” he said. “I think this might work though. I think one of the changes is now we have the space. I think having the space is huge for us—now we have our own room downstairs. That’s really big. It’s emotionally significant.”
That space is Harbor Hall, which USFSP purchased from the Salvador Dali Museum after it moved to its new location last year. Hallock and Armstrong have offices on the top floor. With its large windows overlooking the harbor and running out toward the larger bay, one might expect them to begin writing nautical tales.
The Broke A$$ Literary Salon—which is referred to as simply the “literary salon” in official university press releases for obvious reasons—took place in its downstairs room. Green curtains hung on one side to pull the audience in closer, while the stage sat next to an ornate grand piano with a chip in one leg.
“Welcome to our home,” Hallock said, toward the start of the show. “I can’t tell you how happy we are to have a home.”
The creative writing certificate combined with the English, composition and graphic design departments form the Department of Verbal and Visual Arts, now housed completely in Harbor Hall.
“It’s become a very easy sell to become the source of creative energy on campus—having a designated creative space, a creative playpen for the arts,” Hallock said.
At 15 credit hours, or five courses, the creative writing certificate is “very easy to get” for English majors. Three of those courses must include CRW 3013: Creative Writing and CRW 4924: Advanced Creative writing, which varies in theme by semester. The other two are higher-level English courses of a student’s choosing. The certificate is open to those in other majors, and people who have an undergraduate degree outside of the university.
Many of the classes are taught by prominent members of the Tampa Bay literary community—Heather L. Jones, a founder of the Blue Scarf Collective; Gina Vivinetto, a former music critic for the St. Petersburg Times; Todd Olson, the artistic director at the American Stage Theatre Company.
“Let that sink in for a second,” Hallock said. “The guy that runs American Stage is going to be teaching our students playwriting. That’s pretty good.”
Hallock is proud of the certificate and its crop of local talent, but is seeking someone else to run it—he doesn’t have a background in creative writing. He also hopes to see the program hire full time faculty members and build a graduate certificate program in creative writing.
“We’d like to make USF St. Pete part of the equation of the literary arts in the community, between Poynter, American Stage, Studio@620, Eckerd’s Writers in Paradise,” he said.
As for the Broke A$$ Literary Salon, Hallock wants more students, with established writers presenting alongside them. He hasn’t set a date for any future salons, but like the certificate, he’s leaving that up to what his students want.
“My goal as a teacher is to meet the students halfway. It’s to give the students a place where they can find their voice but also to give them the instruction and exposure to established writers,” Hallock said. “My kid likes to drive, so we go out in the alley and I handle the gas and breaks while he steers. That’s a good analogy for what we’re trying to do. The students can steer and I just have to make sure I have my foot on the break and gas.”
With the sleeves of his lavender shirt rolled up, Hallock walked to the stage at the start of the salon. He looked left, right and center as he waited for the crowd to quiet down.
“Raise your hand if you’re a writer,” he finally said.
Every hand in the room went up, and Tom Hallock smiled.
Email: arts@crowsneststpete.com
Photos by Daniel Mutter
