Dear B,
Yesterday we went for a long walk together through your neighbourhood, admiring the panoramic view of the city below, moving swiftly to keep warm and talking even faster – we had nine months of news to catch up on.
And then you told me a secret.
All these months of hibernation and contemplation had germinated a seed within you. A whole world took shape in your imagination. At first, you didn’t know what it was or what to do with this flickering flame of an idea. You had imagined a world wherein an epic series of stories unfolded in layers that would roll out over many years. I listened quietly, envious of that giddy feeling one gets when the muse visits and ideas are fresh, unblemished by editing or writer’s block, nebulous and not yet fully formed, like a tightly furled dandelion, something pure, unadulterated by doubt, despair or the unsolicited opinions of others; not yet a threat to your energy, your soul or your relationships. Ah, the sweetness of a new idea!
I wanted to share with you right then and there everything I’ve learned in almost ten years of writing, but our bodies were freezing and darkness was descending. So, in case we don’t have the chance to walk again anytime soon, here’s everything I know about writing so far, in a version of a top ten list my friend Cat and I compiled last winter for a speech we gave to the Niagara-on-the-Lake Writer’s Circle. I hope it gives you a bit of encouragement for the adventure ahead.
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1. Every Writer Needs a Story to Tell
“If you’re going to have a story, have a big story or none at all.” – Joseph Campbell
If you take a Pegasus-eyed view of your life, you’ll have an easier time marvelling at the wonderous plot twists that have brought you to this very moment.
2.) Every Writer Needs to Learn the Craft
I took my first creative writing course at Sheridan College, followed by private sessions with a romance novelist, followed by a group critiquing class with Brian Henry, editor extraordinaire and author of the popular blog for writers “The Quick Brown Fox.” Each venture into honing my skills has sharpened something. I recognize good dialogue, I know when a story lacks a plot, I’ve learned seven ways to start a story with a bang – or an image.
The late Stuart McLean used to advise his students at Ryerson University to fill journals with notes about the characters they were creating. Once a journal was full, they could begin to tell the story because the characters would simply react to one another. He also advised writing 500 words a day, no more, so that you would want to go back and keep going the next day.
Others tend to counsel plotting out a novel first and figuring out the characters later. Curtis Brown Creative and many other outfits offers courses in the art of the plot. The author of the Josephine Bonaparte trilogy, Sandra Gulland, points out that there are plotters and there are pantsers (a.k.a those flying by the seat of their pants.) The plotters can write a novel in four years. The pantsers can write it in eight. I think I know which route I prefer, if this advice is in fact true!
Some writers sit down and write an 80,000 - word first draft, and then go back and re-read the whole thing. Others, like the late Carol Shields, advise beginning each day re-reading the previous days words, even editing if inspired to do so, and then moving forward. When it comes right down to it, two exceptional resources I love are K.M. Weiland’s blog and books and Pandemonium, Inc’s excellent video on endings. You will make mistakes – embrace them! Scratch it all out, scrunch it all up and start over. Many brilliant books and plays and songs have been born after tossing those once precious first ideas.
If I knew the secret to the best way to proceed, I would tell you now. But, as with parenting, riding a bicycle or putting on liquid eyeliner, we learn by doing.
3. Every Writer Needs Support
When I was grade five, my very strict, navy-blue pant-suit wearing, chain-smoking teacher went on leave and was replaced by a cheerful woman named Mrs. L. She assigned open-ended writing assignments, and when she returned them, in the top corner, in loopy handwriting, were the most extraordinary adjectives, punctuated by large exclamation marks: “Stupendous!” “Fantastic!” “Mesmerizing!”
Whenever there was an option to write stories, I leapt at the chance. If I could garner smiles and checkmarks, surely this was a sign I was on the right track. I wanted to exhaust all her adjectives.
Several years later, we were studying Jean Giono’s book “The Man who Planted Trees.” I chose to write the protagonist, Elzéard Bouffier, a letter. My teacher began to read my assignment aloud to the class but broke down in tears. My classmates were embarrassed but I was secretly thrilled. At an age when I didn’t understand chemistry or geometry or why we had to do suicide drills in Phys Ed, those tears confirmed to me that stories have power and if I grasped that even a little bit, I should keep going.
Support can take on many different faces.
It can be the aunt who buys you fancy Japanese erasable pens or the friend who e-mails out of the blue and asks “how’s the writing?” or the stranger who reaches out to say, “I saw you got an honourable mention for your essay. Keep going.”
4.) Every Writer Needs a Love of Words
As children, our mothers (mine and Cat’s) read to us every single day.
“nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands”
e.e. cummings
5.) Every Writer Needs Permission to Play
Congratulations. You’ve set out to write a novel, but sooner or later, you will hit a wall. You won’t know if your plot holds water, you’ll wonder if anyone will like your protagonist enough to turn the page. You’ll find yourself staring at the screen filled with a sense of “What am I doing?”
Now is the moment you must give yourself permission to play.
Recently I reconnected with an old friend and we went to a life drawing class, something we hadn’t done since we were eighteen years old. We even had a few pieces of conte chalk left over from high school. The instructor came up to me on the first night and asked, “why are you holding your pencil so tightly? It doesn’t have to be perfect. These sketches aren’t for framing. This is play.”
Get out outside and go for a walk. Silence that inner critic and breathe.
If you’re writing prose, try writing a poem. Try reading a poem. Try reading a poem standing on your head if you must.
Write a letter using beautiful paper and a fountain pen.
Accept that not every moment will be productive, not every word will be publishable.
Take a scene you’ve written in the past tense and re-write it in the present tense. Re-write it in the first person. Write it from the perspective of the teacup on the table in the room… it doesn’t matter. You will be surprised what a little playfulness unlocks.
Give yourself permission to play.
Remember why you fell in love with words in the first place.
6.) Every Writer Needs Sources of Inspiration
Writers learn how to find inspiration everywhere. Mundane outings to the grocery store become opportunities to scout new characters. You may not come up with a brilliant piece of work, but you’re guaranteed a few laughs.
One of my early writing instructors advised reading with a highlighter. When you come across good dialogue, or descriptions so well done they make you jealous, photocopy those pages, re-read them, absorb them and go back and practice writing the same way you would play scales on the piano. Try to imitate the technique of the masters until you find your own way. Like jazz or spray paint, this is where play meets inspiration, where emotion becomes art.
7.) Every Writer Needs a Physical Writing Space
“Women have sat indoors all these millions of years, so that by this time the very walls are permeated by their creative force, which has, indeed, so overcharged the capacity of bricks and mortar that it must needs harness itself to pens and brushes and business and politics.”
― Virginia Woolf
Find space to make your own. Tend to it with intention and give yourself permission to unleash your imagination.
8.) Daily Practice
If you floss your teeth every day, you will have better oral health. You will also have less lectures the next time you visit the hygienist.
If you tell your loved ones you care for them every day, and also take out the trash or make coffee just the way they like it, those daily habits will form a life where people can rest and flourish.
The same goes for daily writing.
Anne Lamott writes every morning after going for a walk with her dogs in the desert. She looks at the world from a mountain top, contemplates life and then gets to work. She never reads the news before she writes, preferring an “unpolluted, uncluttered” mind.
Stephen King also prefers a morning routine, followed by a walk. Business happens in the afternoons.
On Twitter, many bestselling authors swear by the accountability of the #5amwritersclub. Copy editors, teachers, doctors and parents are up before dawn, scribbling words before their household awakes or the demands of work press on them.
For me, when my laptop died several years ago, I decided to purchase a huge desktop monitor. I write in a small alcove of my bedroom every morning, after coffee but before the news. I leave e-mail and phone calls for after lunch as much as possible. I share my work on Wednesdays and revise when I’m feeling brave, the sooner the better.
But there is no right time. Some of you are morning people. Some of you are night owls. Whichever one you are, you must set the time aside.
9.) Every Writer Needs an Audience
When we write, there is nearly always someone that we imagine writing to.
To be able to conjure such deep connection is the spell we weave when we are writing.
10.) Every Writer Needs to Find a Peer Group
Cat and I belong to a group called the Loving-Ass-Kicking Society. We meet weekly to offer support, encouragement and a gentle (or swift) push to put our work out there and keep writing. Belonging to a writer’s group means that while you are submitting to writing contests, literary journals, newspapers and agencies, there are people who care about the rejection letters that inevitably come. Writing can be a lonely endeavour, but it doesn’t have to be. A rejection letter can be cold and formulaic. But sometimes, a writer might receive a personal note from a judge who loved a writer’s work but was voted off the island, so to speak. An editor, agent or judge has subjective opinions – we know this, we’ve heard it all before. A group can affirm that this is in fact true. You may write a story where the dog dies. Two people in your group will love it. The dog owners will tell you it is deplorable. Literary taste is subjective, it often reflects our own experience of the world, and remembering this will keep you moving forward.
The subjective taste of the gatekeepers of the publishing world notwithstanding, a writing group can tell you honestly when your writing needs polishing. If your language is too flowery to comprehend, if you need to put a finer point on something or if an entire piece lacks emotion…a group you have built trust with can tell you all this. Your work will improve under the care and criticism of people who love words. If they love you, they won’t tell you it’s great if it’s not, and this is crucial. A writing group that treasures words won’t let you off the hook. Life brings many challenges – illness, separation, family disputes, job loss– it’s easy to forgo writing, especially since it’s not something that typically puts money in the bank. But your group is waiting for your words, and you must show up for them like you show up at your desk.
Oprah once said, “everybody wants to ride in the limo with you. What you need are people willing to get on the bus when the limo breaks down.” Your group is on standby to celebrate your success when it comes. Having read draft after draft of your work, their notes in the margins mean everything, especially the ones that read: “keep going!”
~
Every writer needs to know that they will find themselves in their words and in the words of others. If you’re lucky, a more compassionate version of yourself may evolve from the pages of this journey.
Have courage, sweet friend, tend to this candle, this dream, this idea, as best you can. Cup your hands around it, and when it’s time, share the light.