I'm beginning to enjoy these blogs, as I've always seen blogging as something less formal and more random than Blackboard, so I'm just going to write here without worrying much about what makes sense and sounds good, or if the order of thought is perfect in relation to the four readings. I'm not going to go back over it with a comb, and I'm going to end it where it ends, even if that's the next sentence. I don't want to piss-off Dr. Ballenger by not writing badly.
Natalie Goldberg connects, seems sound, honest and reasonable with sentiment which rings true. If the good shit came out everytime we sat down to write, it would be a disaster for the writer, not unlike the spoiled child who gets everything they want, making a goal, and the pleasure of attaining it nonexistent. Spoiled children can't be stimulated further, and therefore cannot appreciate, so they're withdrawing and therefore bratty, like the addict, or the filthy rich who don't assimilate to their wealth... life is sadder and more boring than the man or woman struggling with two jobs and worried about making next month's bills on time. As writers, we must have our downs in order to make the ups worth working towards. That's life, and art imitates life, right? Goldberg mentions writing for herself, which is one of the best lessons I've subscribed to over the past couple years - write for yourself first if you can (mentally, emotionally, truly), then go back and edit with an audience in mind.
I'm not saying never consider this in sketching or drafts, but don't get caught up with optics too early, or what you write runs a greater risk of having no real value to YOU. If the writing isn't valuable to the writer then its like trading your dairy cow for magic beans, knowing you're the one getting the bad deal when you can keep the heifer and cream by having some self respect and walking away from the shyster. Maybe its more like Aladdin and the magic lamp? When I have trouble starting, anymore I force myself to blast-draft thoughts onto the screen, which used to be to this writer as veering into oncoming traffic would be to the motorist - you just don't do it. I try to begin by writing about something I would never tell another, at least not a stranger. The content is usually interesting, but better yet it warms me up and in the flow of writing something I don't really intend to share, I either come up with something I truly want to sketch, or become comfortable with the idea of sharing what I wrote. This is where I think writing badly is a blessing. I'd rather write badly with a mess to clean-up, than write badly with no option left but to start over, or give up.
As mentioned early on in Stafford, we don't draw from a reservoir of ideas, but rather figure out which/ a process(es) work best for us over time - process, not magical writing ability bestowed only upon published authors by the grace, yet lacked by all others. One of the best things a writer can do is to no longer initially give a shit about the reader's judgement on content and fancy connections of thought, but write in hopes that we might indeed make the reader uncomfortable, and perhaps even judgemental, because that's what the reader wants - to be put out of place and be forced to question whether their judgement fits. "Was what I just read complete shit ("awk"), or was it the neo-kick-ass?" For better or worse you've likely written something nutty and entertaining, maybe something good, or something which can lead to the good through revision. I think Ballenger's piece is like a xanax prescription, to some degree, which lends a bit of permission to relax a bit in the beginning, allowing for the best swerve into the oncoming traffic. Whether we've been scolded by an 8th grade English teacher or are just plain self-conscious of our peers, worrying too early about finish work clouds the process of creation. Begin by worrying about beginning, and not finishing. Begin big and downsize later. Some might argue to build small, and upsize later, but I think less really is less in the beginning. Maybe I'm digging myself into a hole here, but I'm not afraid to throw my lunacy out there.
That's my nutshell of advice, how I try to write before I write. Like Donald Murray suggests, people (teacher and student) often overlook the importance of what takes place pre-draft. There's so much that goes on in one's mind, whether the time spent is productive or ends up equaling a blank page. Murray's mention of Dr. Graves and the rehearsal we constantly find ourselves in rings reasonably true. I have often pondered and fretted Murray's 'four pressures' and I think what I've briefly discussed above helps me, personally, to neutralize those pressures, or at minimum overcome them without too much stress. Like many things in life, you're in a good place if you can find a happy medium, not too great nor too shitty. Its always good to read about issues which truly connect with the writer, and better yet - reading writing about writing which seems to connect the teacher to the student thought process. Many teachers don't know shit, or don't give 'giving a shit' a single thought, especially in primary education. It too regulated. As suggested by Murray, it is often difficult for a student to know when writing is near (understood as being close, or onto something profound or of interest to an audience), especially if they're looking for the quick reward.
I feel like I struggle most with endings, my thoughts are never complete, my story never seems to be finished. If I've written something and I think its finished, then I'll often come up with an excuse that the writing needs a sequel or a part 2. If anyone else struggles with this, I have no advice, but I often will 'end' these writings hanging from a cliff, with a mic drop, or in some other unexpected state. If anyone has random advice on endings I would certainly be obliged to read it.
Hi Jeff,
ReplyDeleteI got a whole handout on endings that I'll have to share with you. You're right, endings are hard, and we don't talk about them enough. So much here strikes me as the thinking of a writer who has considerable insight into describing, as Stafford put it, "a process that will bring about new things he would not have thought of if he had not started to say them." You accept writings' "ups and downs," and the need to accept "bad writing" as an often essential part of the process. Had I only known these things--or believed them--when I was young and trying to take myself seriously as a writer. It would have been so much easier. I was interested in you contention that starting "big" makes the most sense to you, and "downsizing" later. I assume you're talking about so-called "overwriting?" I can see advantages to this, of course. What do you think they are? What does the process of overwriting look like for you? In other words, how do you generate all the material initially?
I would love a handout on endings. I believe I am talking about overwriting - getting-down as much as I can remember as well as the thoughts (then and now) surrounding what I'm writing about. I don't know that all the material is generated with initial overwriting, but it feels like I'm setting myself up with more to work with in revision, to pick and choose what I'll build upon. Setting-out to sketch without limits, but with new rules is a fairly recent attitude I have towards my writing. Getting rid of the urge to correct, or read-over what I've written in the sketching phase was essential. Revising as I went interrupted my thought flow and hindered early creativity.
DeleteI can definitely relate to what you said about ending with a mic drop. My move is to end with a weird sort of non-sequitur that leaves the impression of me as a pseudo-intellectual author who allows folks to draw their own conclusions, haha.
ReplyDeleteIt drives me nuts to meet professors who still act like they're teaching 8th grade. Docking points for spelling errors? Come on. Even I know to read for content & comprehension. I just want to tell some professors to grow up, but that seems like kind of a bad idea.
I also agree with your impression of Ballenger's piece as a sort of permission slip to relax. Getting all worked up and scared to write something dumb or embarrassing necessarily means writing less, which seems like an objectively bad thing.
Hi Elise, thanks for your response. That's fascinating that you like to leave your reader thinking your writing or ideas are half-baked and possibly. Is that what you mean pseudo? Lol. Letting readers draw some of their own conclusions is fantastic, and I like that too. I think that's the best advantage of a mic drop, but of course there are always downsides. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, or something like that. I wonder what a good similar philosophical saying could be applied to the trials of non fiction writing. I definitely agree with what you say... it does feel like some professors teach like we're in the 8th grade, but luckily its been a couple years since I've had an English professor that gave off that impression.
DeleteI appreciate what Ballenger wrote, its super-solid reasoning and definitely a prescription to not be so worked up about certain things in the beginning.
This discussion on ending is intriguing for me. It's something I too have struggled with, however, I think I've found a formula which works well for most of my creative pieces. I also like to end on that "mic-drop", or as I prefer "gut punch". I like to give the reader 2/3 of the puzzle, and let them puzzle about the other 1/3. Like in those math problems in early algebra: A+ =X, or any variation which fits best the content preceding it. My goal is to make the reader work for their lunch, without realizing they were working at all
ReplyDelete