Mindful Writing Exercise (In The Word Cellar)

 
The Chocolate Room, Brooklyn, April 2010

 Last summer, I declared that I was learning to write badly:

I am learning to write badly. Don't misunderstand me: I can write badly. Very badly, in fact. But I hate doing it. I hate to write when it's hard and cumbersome and ugly. I hate to write when the words aren't flowing easily and every sentence feels like a Herculean effort laden with clichés. I hate to write when I don't know what I want to say or can't get to the heart of what I mean. And since I'm all about pleasure, I avoid the writing when it's hard and bad. But this doesn't help me as a writer. So today, and tomorrow and tomorrow for however long it takes for it to become more natural, I'm practicing writing badly. I'm practicing sticking with it even when I can hardly stand it. I'm practicing the writing process, no matter what the product looks like. I'm learning to write badly so that I can write well more often.

In the eight months since then, I have indeed learned to write badly more often. This is a triumph! I still have days when the words don't flow and I just want to stop trying until inspiration (that elusive lover) returns. But now, the difference is that I have more staying power to sit still and keep writing rather than fleeing to more palatable tasks like doing laundry or watching videos of adorable kittens online. I wouldn't go so far as to say my discipline has improved, but I guess that's one way to view it. (I've written about my preference for the term "enthusiasm" rather than "discipline.")

Of course, the end goal isn't to write badly. It's to keep writing, to keep honing my craft and using my skills, so that the good stuff has time and room to come out on the page. By increasing my commitment and quantity, I've also improved my quality. By working through the rough patches, I've opened up new fields where I can play and have fun with words.

This struggle with writing reminds me of the way people often describe the challenges of meditation. When I practice sitting calmly and try to clear my mind, it wants to get up and run around, showing me all of the things I should think about or attend to. My internal dialogue is similar for both writing and meditation. It goes something like this.

Okay, I'm concentrating. (Oh look, laundry!) Come back to the page. (This is hard. Wah!) Breathe in and out. (I need cute kitten videos right now!) Write a few more words. (Don't wanna!) Breathe and be still. (I need to call the pet groomer tomorrow.) Write.

Writing and meditation both require a certain paradoxical level of mindfulness and detachment. In meditation, I try to notice the thoughts that float through my mind and then let them go without attachment or analysis. In writing, I notice my resistance, and then I write another sentence without judgment. Meditation and writing both require ongoing practice. Breath by breath. Word by word.

Here's a mindful writing exercise for you to try.

The next time you sit down to write, notice how you feel if it seems to be going badly. How long does it take you to feel frustrated? What do you feel compelled to do instead of write? How can you bring your attention back to the story at hand? What helps you to push through and to keep writing?

Try this exercise a few times over the coming weeks and see if it becomes easier to be committed even when you don't feel the magic of inspiration. Notice if there is a certain point at which the magic shows up for you in the writing practice. Does this tell you anything about how you process or pursue your creativity?

I'd love to hear how your writing practice is going. Are you feeling enthusiastic? Meditative? Like you're engaged in a wrestling match? Please consider sharing your thoughts in the comments or sending me an email.

**I'll be answering community questions in the coming weeks. Send your writing questions to jennifer{at}thewordcellar{dot}com with "In The Word Cellar" as the subject line.**

In The Word Cellar (normally) runs on the second and fourth Wednesday of the month. Check out other articles in the series here. (Apologies for this post being one day late. Clearly, I have some lessons to learn about discipline. But I remain enthusiastic.)

A Springtime Blessing

Cannon Beach, Oregon (March 2010)

May you be rooted like rock
That reaches down beneath the constant tide
And pushes tall into the air.
May you shimmer like sun-skimmed sand
Along white, white waves.
May a line of footprints lead you
To adventure and home and back again.
May your perspective be one of compassion and beauty.
May you ruffle your wings in the water
And flutter them dry on the breeze,
Plump with the knowledge that you are as permanent
And as temporary
As this land.

Have heart: Will travel.

on the Strait of Juan de Fuca, Washington

How many pieces of myself have I left on shores?

All We Need

Sweet Laurette's Cafe & Bistro, Port Townsend, WA

Sometimes all we need is

a sweet cafe,

a trusted friend,

and a bowl of espresso with milk.

Who Needs Rules? Writers & Readers Do. (In The Word Cellar)

image by Horia Varlan

In general, I have a complicated relationship with rules. On the one hand, I tend to be a goody-two-shoes who obeys the rules because I'm afraid of getting in trouble. On the other hand, I long to rebel, to break out and do my own thing, rules be damned!

And so it is with my writing. I use this tension between rule following nerd and raucous rebel to my benefit. When we know the rules, we can decide when and why to break them. This enables us to use language, grammar, and punctuation more effectively.

But why must we writers bother with rules in the first place? Maybe you're thinking, "Isn't writing all about creative self-expression?" Yes. But as long as you're writing something for other people to read, you need to care about the rules.

Why? Because the rules of grammar, word usage, and punctuation are a form of etiquette between you and the reader. Writing is communication. An essay, blog post, story, or novel is an interactive entity. You may write it when you're alone, and a reader may read it on her own, but you both need to understand the rules of the game in order for the piece of writing to work.

First of all, using proper punctuation and grammar shows readers that you use language with authority. This helps them to put their trust in you and what you're writing. Have you ever read something pockmarked with mistakes? It's hard to give the author or the material much credibility when that happens. Second, following established rules is a way to give readers signposts and signals about the rhythm and meaning of your writing. If you suddenly made up new punctuation marks or used a comma when you should have used a question mark, you risk diminishing your authority while also confusing readers.

Consider capitalization, another device that helps to direct readers. We capitalize the beginnings of sentences to show that a new "unit" or thought has begun. Likewise, we capitalize proper nouns to indicate that we're referring to a particular person or place. Look at the following sentences.

I walked to sandy shores.

I walked to Sandy Shores.

In the first example, I'm telling the reader (in a rather poetic voice) that I walked to some shores that are sandy. In the second sentence, I indicate that I walked to a specific place called Sandy Shores. Depending on the context of the sentence, this could be an important point for the reader to know. (For example, maybe Sandy Shores is five miles away or is just around the corner. Maybe the narrator's red hot lover or estranged mother lives in Sandy Shores. Maybe Sandy Shores is the name of a Christian missionary house or a seedy bar. Either way, "Sandy Shores" tells us something different than "sandy shores.")

These are basic examples of why writing rules matter. Now, let's talk about rule breaking!

Last week I wrote a blog post using all lowercase letters. I ignored the rules of capitlization because I wanted to create a feeling of intimacy with the reader. I also wanted the words to show visually that I felt tired and small. Of course, the poet e.e. cummings is known for his use of lowercase letters, and I referenced him at the beginning of my post. I invoked cummings' name for several reasons. First, I was making a bit of a joke. But I also wanted people to know that I was aware of breaking the rules and to show that I was doing it on purpose. I felt confident that my readers could follow this tiny act of rebellion.

When I decided to use lowercase letters, I decided to let my desired style trump the established rules. I didn't do it wrong simply because I didn't know any better. Rather, I made a conscious choice to do something different. In this case, I'm comfortable with that risk. This doesn't mean that all rule breaking, even conscious rule breaking, will work well or to your advantage.

Rule breaking is one of those grey areas in writing that depend on the author, the intended audience, the format, the desired effect, style, tone, and the individual piece of writing. You should make the decision to go against a rule based on all of these factors. For example, writing for a blog may be different than writing for a major magazine. Different rules of style may apply, but you should always be in control of your writing. (In other words, informal writing isn't an excuse to be sloppy.)

So. Does that help to clear things up or just create more confusion? (See how I made a whole sentence out of the word "so"? I'm breaking rules all over the place!)

This post just grazes the surface of rules and rule breaking in writing. Let's get a discussion going in the comments. Are you a stickler for rules? Do you hate them? What are your rule breaking questions?

**I'll be answering community questions in the coming weeks. Send your writing questions to jennifer{at}thewordcellar{dot}com with "In The Word Cellar" as the subject line.**

In The Word Cellar runs on the second and fourth Wednesday of the month. Check out other articles in the series here.