I wasn’t planning to post today, as I have about an hour to get ready to head to Miami for the last day of a writing workshop I’m doing with Ann Hood, on beginnings. It has been a fabulous workshop, astounding in the depth of advice Ann has offered, and I’ll be putting together posts about this in the coming week.
Although I’m in a rush this morning, in responding to reader comments about managing writing time on my last post (What I’m Looking for Isn’t Here & 5 Tips for Managing Writing Time), I was struck by Eden’s comment:
“As my husband always says, ‘Do something, even if it’s wrong.'”
For many writers who are getting started, or those beginning to have successes but still balancing day-jobs, family and other priorities with their writing goals, simply doing something is at the heart of making any progress.
Do something, write something – even if it’s wrong. Claim the time, get something done.
Two other commenters on the same post spoke of the times they finally have the time, but not the inspiration or (heaven forbid) forgot what they had been planning to sit and write. This made me think of advice I read in one of Natalie Goldberg’s books (either Writing Down the Bones or Wild Mind: Living the Writer’s Life).
Common writing advice is to write every day and, when writing, to keep the pen or keyboard moving. As Eden’s husband encouraged, do something. Write something. It is also common advice to not be afraid to write something bad, or at least not good. Frequently I hear writers say, there’s no such thing as waiting for inspiration. You write anyway. Write something, even if it is wrong.
What is different in Natalie Goldberg’s advice is her use of Zen principles, and the concept of positive and negative space. Writers waiting to write the right thing, the inspired thing, insist on that positive space: the thing they want pictured, described, acted out. Writing negative space is to acknowledge the non-thing. To write what is not there, not happening, not inspired, not the focus of the story.
Goldberg offered this daily prompt, as a way to get writers past fear of the blank page. When you don’t know what you want to write, then start by finishing the sentence, “I’m not going to write about…”
Try it. I know it is strange, but it is oddly freeing. The first time I did it, I remember the first line that came out was, “I’m not going to write about the blinds.” How mundane. But the riff that followed (I’m not going to write about the cat quacking at my feet, I’m not going to write about the growl of the trash truck and silence of the trees, with no wind. I’m not going to write about the main character who is stuck sitting in that cafe…) revealed entire reams of detail and even a scene I hadn’t thought of before.
It’s an odd little practice, but sometimes flips energy just enough to loosen your voice.
There are two ways to use this activity.
1) In the example above, I wasn’t even trying to go head-on at writing something I would use in existing work. It might only shake loose distractions, quiet a preoccupied mind, and mess up that pristine white page enough to get past writers block for the moment. It might free you enough to move on with more effective writing for the day, or might just be an activity in creative practice, maybe percolating some interesting details that might at some point be useful, or maybe just dormant or even discarded journal entry.
2) Where Goldberg’s Zen approaches have been more meaningful to me, is her entire approach of thinking of negative space can be liberating and eye-opening in imagining story. So often we are focused on inventing what is happening in the story, but what about what is not happening? We focus on our main character’s experience, but what did those same scenes look like from a fringe character’s point of view? Generally speaking, when we take our focus off the main attraction and take in the negative space, we understand (and can write) the story more fully. We begin to notice the blank space around the story we wrote, and realize what might have been happening in the world around our character. New “what if’s” begin to come to mind. In using this practice, I’ve written scenes from another character’s perspective, which might lead to more insightful dialogue. I’ve realized entire scenes or tensions, or outcomes of the conflict that hadn’t otherwise occurred to me.
That said, this girl needs to get in motion or I’ll miss Ann Hood’s reading during lunch today. Since I won’t take time to edit this post as carefully as usual, do let me know in the comments I’ve left it unclear — or let me know if resonates with you. Have a great day!
Update 10/8/12: I have to share with you all a link to this beautiful post by fellow Florida writer, Kelly Turnbull, from her blog Parsley and Pumpkins on “writing what you don’t see”: Change with Color.
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