It’s often been said that writing is a solitary occupation. Franz Kafka opined as much when he wrote: “Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.” And my personal approach to writing is very private. I have rarely let others read my unfinished work.
The only person who regularly reads my work-in-progress is my trusty in-house editor, and sometime collaborator, my husband. I have never been one for writing groups. But these days it is next to impossible to completely avoid that kind of inter-author engagement given the plethora of social media and perhaps even the necessity for developing what has become that annoying phrase: the writer’s platform.
All of this begs a couple of questions for me: Do writers need other writers? And if they do, what do they need them for?
I’m working on a piece of writing that could use just such answers. In an effort to open my mind to others’ perspectives, I’m hoping that as many writers as I can “engage” with will answer these questions.
If you have an answer, please leave a comment or answer my poll.
My beloved notebook and my even more beloved computer!
The irony was not lost on me. As I downloaded Natalie Goldberg’s new book The True Secret of Writing: Connecting Life with LanguageI knew I was treading on sacred ground: you see (if you are not familiar with Natalie Goldberg, which you should be if you think you’re a writer) Natalie’s writing philosophy is deeply underpinned by the notion of the writing flowing from the heart, through the arm and out the pen as you move your hand across the paper. Although she acknowledges the utility of the computer, and no doubt uses it herself, the paper clearly has the upper hand in the paper versus digital divide for writing practice.
Last week I changed offices again at the university. Yes, my time chained to my desk toiling away at chairman-type duties has finally come to an end. Few people understand the concept of peer governance in university departments: that’s when we all take a turn at being “in charge” and spend a year or two or three with all the responsibility and no authority. I have done my duty now three times – one for a full three-year term and twice to fill in for year-long sabbaticals for others – and now return to doing what I do best and prefer. That would be teaching and writing. However, changing offices is not without its substantial benefits.
The requirement to take files out of cabinets and books off shelves gives one a moment to pause and consider whether or not one actually needs all that paper. And that question refers equally to one’s creation as much as to one’s consumption.
First I’m thinking about my consumption – of books, documents, pamphlets (does anyone actually produce these things today?), newspaper clippings, print-outs of academic articles, notes, and the list goes on. It’s only recently that I succumbed to the eBook mania and began downloading books on my IPad. What I’ve discovered is that I actually read faster on the IPad – although I still love that feel of a real book in my hands. Now, though, I can have a whole library in the space of one IPad. Who can argue with that notion?
So, I’ve taken the view that anything on paper that needs to be kept should be digitalized and saved on a hard drive. I’ve been doing this both at work and at home. As I move ever closer to early retirement, and my husband and I move ever closer to right-sizing our living accommodation, we have purged all manner of paper – photos being the number one culprit. Even all those old photos of our ancestors just after the advent of the widespread use of photography from the early 20th century. Yup, all scanned and digitalized, and the paper products recycled. It’s such a feeling of a burden of paper being lifted off our shoulders. So those are some consumption thoughts. What about creation?
I create a lot of paper. All I have to do is open the bottom file drawer in my desk to see that I do love to keep paper copies of my writing. I write on a computer and I print out everything. And I do love my writing journals. I won’t go on about them now – since I’ve done that before – but it does bear repeating that there is nothing quite like a new journal and a pen that glides smoothly over the pages. If you can get that just right, you can be in writing heaven. But my hand gets a cramp these days.
Does this mean that I’m confined to the computer forever? As I’ve begun to read Natalie Goldberg’s book (on my IPad), I begin to get excited again about the possibilities of those ideas truly flowing from head to heart to hand in just that physical way. I actually dug out one of my hard-backed journals and did some writing practice. The ideas did flow – but the unfortunate result was a severe hand cramp. So, I’m back at the computer this morning as I embark on two months of writing.
There was a tie when I’d do a ten-minute timed writing as Natalie suggests every morning before I stared what I considered to be my real writing. To me that’s a bit like sitting meditation before beginning work: something I should do but often neglect. Like my return to my daily meditation, perhaps writing practice on paper is something I should get back to. My only question that still remains though is what to do with all that paper!
I have a list of half- and quarter-completed writing projects, and one that isn’t started but has to be finished by August 1 (only 1500 words for that one, so no problem). So, pe or keyboard, I better get at it.
What are your thoughts on pen and paper for writing practice?
Crone. What an awful word. And yet I’ve been thinking about her this week, and how I might tap into my own inner crone to see if she has any wisdom that might inform both my writing and my day job these days.
Some definitions of the word suggest that it refers to an old woman who is ugly, thin, withered, cranky. Wikipedia’s entry on the crone says she’s “…disagreeable, malicious, or sinister…”—a folkloric character. But it also suggests that crones are magical, and that they are the archetypical wise woman.
Some years ago I spent a lot of time reading and listening to Clarissa Pinkola Estes (who famously wrote Women Who Run with Wolves) and her stories about the archetypal crone, or as she sees her, the wise old woman. She conceptualized the three stages of a woman’s life as maiden, mother, crone, implying that if we live long enough, we’ll all enter that final stage. The crone. But Dr. Estes doesn’t see it as so bad. In fact, listening to her tell stories about crones often made me look forward to the day when some of the following might be a part of my life.
Not caring what anyone else thinks about what I do…
…but tempering that lack of care with the wisdom to know when not to hurt others…
…coupled with the accumulated years of decisions, choices, and knowledge that when mixed together and applied judiciously result in wisdom.
And so, I’m thinking about how much wisdom I might have accumulated at this point in my life. Do I have enough wisdom to be able to stand back and let my younger colleagues make their own mistakes, to let them take the view that older is not better, to let them believe that their considerable erudition is a match for wisdom? Do I have enough wisdom to apply it to my writing? Can I mine those choices, that knowledge (of myself and others), those decisions?
The website Crones Counsel says this about the crone: “Crone women fly directly into the face of ageism and sexism. They refuse to be put down. They do not walk meekly on the road to old age. They are keen to assert their presence if not their influence.”[1]
I guess the part of this that I have had the most difficulty with in recent years is asserting presence without asserting influence. I’m not sure what happened this week, but I seem to have had an epiphany. I seem to no longer feel the need to influence external factors. Perhaps that will serve me well in my interior life where my writing lives before it gets out onto the page /computer screen.
Crones Counsel also says: “…a Crone is an older woman who has learned to walk in her own truth, in her own way, having gained her strength by acknowledging the power and wisdom of the totality of her experience. She is “a wise old woman.”[2]
I’m going to do as they suggest and celebrate the place I am in my life. It’s time to let go of a few things so that I can embrace my own truth.
It’s often been said that writing is a solitary occupation. Franz Kafka opined as much when he wrote: “Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.” And my personal approach to writing is very private. I have rarely let others read my unfinished work.
Patricia J. Parsons 