I recently wrote an Amazon customer review of Writing in Community: Say Goodbye to Writer’s Block and Transform Your Life, by Lucy Adkins and Becky Breed (BQB Publishing, 2013). Their book describes a specific type of writing group, a “generative” group, where certain conditions must be nurtured in order to foster the creative process in the service of inspiration and self-discovery. Think trust and safety. Attend to positive relationships among group members.
My experiences with writing groups have come within a different kind of group, a “critique” style of group, where completed drafts are presented for examination from various viewpoints, from grammar and punctuation to overall story concept. Here I will draw from Lucy and Becky’s excellent advice about their group and offer some ways their wisdom translates to another kind of group. In forming a critique group, the accepted wisdom is to enlist members with a similar level of writing experience and talent. I think this is not as important as having a set of rules, a structure that all members feel comfortable following. I have benefitted from membership in a group that included members skilled in the technical aspects of writing and others who were great storytellers but considered grammar and punctuation as irritants at best. Each made contributions to my writing. A complete description of rules is beyond this piece, but two concepts highlight the importance of the way in which members give and receive criticism. One fundamental rule is that criticism is offered as “take it or leave it.” The member receiving input is free to accept or decline. I was in one group where a member walked out in the middle of a session when his suggestions were not applauded as the only way to proceed. The other vital issue is how one offers criticism. A few examples will suffice as the wrong way to give input: “That whole section is just one big information dump.” “I can give you a few examples of actually good writing so that you can fix that chapter.” And my favorite, “I’m not here to worry about people’s feelings; I’m here to make you a good writer.” My overall point is that there are commonalities in all types of writing groups that will nurture or kill a group. These similarities are all about respect, trust, and safety. This wisdom also reflects the necessary reality expressed in a recent “motto” of the North Carolina Writers Network: no one writes alone.
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Many talented, creative people pursue their art as a hobby. Musicians gather with friends for a Saturday night jam. Hobby poets and painters share their creations with family and friends. Rewarding, but no fame or fortune.
In my distant youth I saw writing as my future profession, but I lost my confidence in that way to earn a living. I went to medical school. I wrote as a hobby. Retiring from 40 years of psychiatric practice, I opened a bookstore as a path to restoring my identity as “English major.” I ran the bookstore as a hobby, never really embracing a true “business model.” The result was not unexpected: no real money. My renewed hobby of writing and book store owner succeeded as intended, as hobby. I now kept company with writers and readers, not doctors. Slowly something changed. I realized I did actually want some recognition for my writing, and hey, wouldn’t it be great if I earned money from it? I became aware that by keeping writing as a hobby and not expecting money for it was a defense against failure. If I expected no recognition or payment, no pressure. If my writing really isn’t very good, at least few people will see it. Couldn’t I just say that if my writing is worthy, I’ll be discovered some day? Maybe after I’m dead. I do not like “business.” Actually, I don’t know how to do it. There are people who do. What? I might have to pay them? That will eat up a lot of royalty payments, if there are any. I glad my grandfather farmer didn’t think that way. I’m sure seeds and fertilizer cost money. And keeping or renting a mule wasn’t free. He learned how to farm from someone. So now I’m all in, “employed” in the business of writing, with a budget to invest, people to help, learning modern marketing tools. Building an author “brand.” Whatever that is. Writer’s block is generally used to refer to someone who once used creativity in a productive way but loses the ability to produce new work. The absence of consensus about cause and remedy has emboldened this writer to add to the discussion. I write as a retired psychiatrist now restored to my default identity: English major.
Suggested causes of writer’s block range from the psychoanalytic to cynical dismissals of the condition as a myth. Most common are explanations based on the effects of anxiety and stress, sometimes involving unrealistic demands to produce, sometimes about extraneous pressures. Some explanations fault the design of the brain. One area of the brain simply can’t function when another is engaged in a certain way. I won’t go into detail here because my medical training tells me such explanations are forced and not compelling. Lacking consensus, I think there is room for another wrinkle in the fabric. My idea comes from the realization that I have been least productive in my writing during the times in my life when I felt fulfilled and happy in the other dimensions of my life. A common assumption is that some forms of creativity flow from conflict. A corollary is that good writing needs conflict. So, if one is too “fat and happy”, does this get in the way? Two examples from my own personal experience. In my thirties, having published nothing, I had reams of notebooks of prose and poetry awaiting discovery and acclaim. Then I graduated from medical training and got a rewarding job, simultaneous with helping bring a daughter into the world. Happy times. Not stress free, but fulfilling. Important doctor and doting dad. I quit writing for a decade. But unfiltered adoration of a three-year-old for her dad soon enough gives way to teen stuff and soon after that comes FAFSAs, college dorms, and the empty nest. Plenty to write. More recently, after four self-published novels, one of which won a national indie-book award, I hit another wall. My brother died and I became executor of his very complex and contested estate. Surprisingly, despite the grief from the loss of my older brother, and the remarkable amount of time required for serving as executor, I found this role fulfilling. I succeeded in an unfamiliar landscape, doing something important for my brother and family. I joined the ranks of the few who can define “Letters Testamentary” and “per stirpes.” Bestriding this new world, I became measurably puffed up with self-importance. And my blog went dead for a year; I could edit past work but could not find new ideas. So, if productive creativity lies is some sweet spot mid-way between abject misery and transcendental joy and inner peace, what does that say about how to get beyond writer’s block? The misery part is more easily addressed. From standard stress reduction approaches, through practical writing hygiene suggestions, relief is on the way. Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way is perhaps the best packaged set of remedies for creativity enhancement. For the too-much-happiness problem, I think time will take care of that. The Furies are still out there, and we’re all guilty of something, and deserving of their attention. If you hold a poet in highest esteem, you may attend an open mic and read or recite the poet’s work. If it is music that moves you, and you have some talent, you can “cover” the pieces you value. If you have no talent speak of, you might still become, for a few minutes, a Karaoke King for some unsuspecting captive audience in a public gathering place. How many versions of “Desperado” does the world need.
But how does one honor a writer in a personal way? On July 21st at Wake Forest’s Neck of the Woods Theater, I am going to try something. The writer is Ambrose Bierce, Civil War Union Soldier and later journalist, critic, cynic, and author of some of the most hauntingly beautiful prose about some of man’s most horrific experiences, those of war and the life of the soldier. Some of what is written today about war and the soldier, such as the book Tribe by Sebastian Junger, is rediscovered wisdom. Read Junger’s description of the complexity of the homecoming struggles of today’s warrior, then go find the same kind of information in Bierce’s “What I Saw at Shiloh.” So what am I going to try at the local theater? Much as some today try to “impersonate” Mark Twain, I will appear on stage as the ghost of Ambrose Bierce. My monologue will come directly from his work, as if he were speaking from the spirit world. I have my Union Soldier uniform. I think it is safe to wear the Yankee blue in Wake Forest. A disclaimer: I am not a military veteran. I make no claim to personal knowledge of war. I try to honor those who have gone to war for me, and I believe that I am honoring others in a small way with this presentation of the work of a largely forgotten voice who spoke of war. Come to the performance on July 21st at the Renaissance Center at 7PM and see for yourself if what I am trying is worthwhile. |
AuthorI read. I write. I learn. I’m in a writing group and I have four published books. I’m still pretty sure I’m not Steinbeck, but my heart and soul have found their way back to where they should be. Archives
February 2022
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