17 March 2008¶ On writing every day
As I finished up my last paper, I was surprised (really? No, not really) to see how much my writing had improved1 since my MA thesis. I’m learning, slowly, about writing but I’m not sure it’s as systematic as I’d like it to be. I’m going to try to remedy that by doing more systematic, regular writing for an audience: that’s you.
I’ve been doing daily writing for quite a while, before I began my graduate work at least. When I was trying to write my novel2 I did a open-topic freewrite before every session, and I found it both useful and therapeutic, even when I wrote little more than “my, there are some very annoying people in the library today all of whom I will now describe.” I discovered that I’m able to produce a lot of writing with very little effort. It’s not generally very good writing, but it is words, and from those words I can usually find something worth saving.
I also learned that freewriting is one way my brain discovers things. I learn more by wandering around the keyboard than I do staring at a wall, though I’ve spent more hours than I am willing to admit staring at a wall hoping for inspiration. The fact is my inspiration comes between paragraphs of swillish nonsense and can’t be discerned as inspiration until afterwards. When I write fast, I see things, I discover things, I learn things. When I write slowly, I despair.
Sadly, I still have neither patience nor skill at serious revision and careful polish. That’s a must-learn, but I figure that’s what the dissertation is for, right? (Friends with PhDs are all gritting their teeth right now, breathing fast and whispering “no! no! no!” in an attempt to communicate to me through the power of anguish the stupidity of that statement.)
That fast writing is useful for discovering things, but it lacks the sticking power of writing that is more crafted, that has an audience and hence requires thought about the consequences or the necessary background or the other implications that accompany an idea. Writing for an audience forces me to take my serendipitous discovery and really consider it. I like this part, too; I like how it sometimes (often?) reveals that my good ideas turn out to be pretty leaden or obvious or derivative or petty or false.
I have a plan — still poorly formed and likely destined to fail — in which I write for this here blog every day. Rather than just blather on about my own inconsequential perspective on my insular existence, I thought I’d use my writing to explore the frontiers of my own ignorance. I’m going to use this here space to fill in the gaps in my knowledge that should be filled already by writing about them, every day.
The risk of displaying to everyone my own ignorance is daunting, yes. I’m not admitting to absolute ignorance, but I am not satisfied with my own answers to these issues yet, and need to resolve that ignorance somehow, and by using a blog I get the benefit of an audience without it having any real power. You’re not my committee, after all3. You won’t fail me, but knowing that you exist gives me enough of a poke that I will write with a little more diligence that I might otherwise. Similarly, I’m writing here, rather than an anonymous blog, because I want to keep myself accountable. I’ve seen too many once-readable anonymous blogs turn into self-pity and whining; I hardly need more opportunity to exercise my self-pity and victimization.
So what am I going to write about? I’ve got a tentative schedule, which I’m almost sure to modify once the new term gets swinging (presuming I decide to continue at all):
Monday: writing about writing. I’m going to write about some aspect to writing that I can implement throughout the rest of the week. It might be something small, like sentence-level style issues, or systematic, like a method of revision. The idea is to stick with the practical, not the theoretical.
Tuesday: poetry. I hope to do a quick read-through a poem and then write about it, perhaps looking at form or its historical background or doing a (short) close-read. This will be a toughie, since I am nervous about my handle on some of the major poems in my period. I hate to admit that my Milton is barely more advanced than an Americanist undergraduate. Yes, it really is that bad. I am ashamed; I will repent.
Wednesday: writing about work. This is a tough day, and I’m trying to avoid leaving it unscheduled. Fact is my Wednesdays are busy, busy, busy and I’m not sure what will work here. I might write about overcoming procrastination (rather, about trying to overcome procrastination), or organization, or a nifty piece of software I’m using to help my research. Is this a lame topic? Maybe.
Thursday: writing about primary source texts. I know it sounds vague, but I think this is still sufficiently focused to be worth my time. Mostly this is my chance to write about literature that isn’t poetry. Maybe I’ll write about the supernatural in The Spanish Tragedy or about insanity in The Changeling or about Ananias in The Alchemist. Not only drama, oh no, but perhaps mostly drama.
Friday: history, theory, and other background, conceptual stuff. Here’s my chance to spend a couple hundred words on, say, the Wars of the Roses, or on historical definitions of tragedy, or on the critical use of textual history. I can talk about a lot of this stuff — it is what fills up much of my teaching, I suppose — but I’m not sure how well I’ll be able to translate that into a bright, gemlike flame of a page.
Have I lost you all? If I haven’t yet, I expect I might once I get going. I hope to keep each day’s entry to about one or two typed pages (350-500 words. For reference, this entry weighs in at about 1200). I hope to stick to the main points, elaborate little, and wrap up quickly.
As I said, this is just an idea at this point, and one that might wither as soon as I try to put it into action. If I discover that a day’s entry takes more than an hour-ish to produce I might have to dramatically alter my vision (or lower my standards). I can spare an hour, since this will tie into both my teaching this quarter and my exam prep, but more than an hour and I’m being indulgent and misguiding my own efforts.
If you’ve got comments, I’d love to hear them. Suggestions? Requests for topics, poems, or historical events? Pleadings to stop? Subtle hints that I’m embarrassing myself and everyone I know? Shoot me an email or leave a comment. Since my entire readership might be able to sit around my kitchen table with chairs to spare, I’m not anticipating a crush of feedback, but I’d be interested to hear before I do something rash. Like, for instance, publish this post.
Alas: perhaps all is lost already.
——
1 That improvement might not be readily apparent to anyone who actually reads both my thesis and my last paper, but it felt stronger, more capable and confident. Predictably, my one-night-editing won’t let the strength of anything shine through.
2 If I haven’t mentioned it to you before, it is because the world isn’t ready for my novel. [Please read with the appropriate mock-gravitas inflected.]
3 Not as far as I’m aware, that is. If you are on my committee, please tell me before I embarrass myself further. Thanks.
While I have doubts about your ability to consistently execute (no offense, daily, public writing is hard), I’m really looking forward to your efforts. I think I am now far enough removed from my undergraduate years that I can read literary criticism and discussion without feeling an overwhelming need to drink Absinthe and lie down.
— Thom · Mar 18, 12:52 PM · #
Instead of freewriting a bunch of blah, blah, blah about poems nobody but you has read, how about freeanswering some emails?
— J.HIlde · Mar 19, 11:35 AM · #
do FORMER committee members count? i think this is a wondeful idea. i’m looking fwd to reading….
— renaissance girl · Mar 21, 02:29 PM · #