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Introduction:

For such a simple skill, writing can be a terrifyingly difficult activity. The life of a writer is popularly presented as one full of lonely suffering, wrestling with terrible insecurity and Bohemian poverty. Is this a defensive image put forward by writers to hide the truth? The truth, of course, is that writing can and should be a central activity of our lives, an activity full of joy. Even the most unwanted written tasks can be approached in a spirit which guarantees success. However there is one proviso:

to enjoy the product, you must enjoy the process

or, put another way, nothing comes for free, but the price exacted is an enjoyable and beneficial one.

even here, though, there is good news. Life is not about how much energy you do or do not have; it is about how you direct your energy . When we talk to ourselves, we define our own thoughts and attitudes. There was a boy who arrived home from boarding school for a weekend, but forgot his keys. In consequence he had to go to the other side of town and spend several hours at his uncle's. Not surprisingly, he was very grumpy; all he had wanted was to get back into his own house. So he sat in his uncle's house telling himself "Oh I'm so stupid. Why did I forget my keys? I'm not enjoying this at all."

Finally, his uncle, who had never had the privileges his nephew had (liberal parents, expensive, private education and all) turned to his nephew and said, in a voice that would brook no argument, "Oi, mush. Look here. You have a choice; you can either sit there and mope all afternoon or you can get on and make the best of it - but remember - you're in someone else's house!"

Chastened, the youth was simultaneously freed from his torture, and the rest of the day passed quite happily.

If we can change an experience like the above with the simple flick of a mental switch, how much more enjoyable can our writing be? That is the subject of this guide: to show you how to enjoy the process and get the best out of your writing, whether assigned or voluntary.

                                                                                                I

Chapter One: Where to Begin?

Do you have a particular writing task you have been assigned? If so, concentrate on it now. Take a moment just to make yourself a cup of tea, and while it is brewing, imagine putting the finishing touches to whatever it is you want to write. Feel the immense relaxation of having completed the task. Then, come back here.

IS THERE NO SUCH THING AS FAILURE?
ARE THERE ONLY DIFFERENT SUCCESSES?

If you have no writing task assigned, you will be in a freer position for this next task. Take a side of A4, or its equivalent on your word-processor, and cover it in writing. Let your brain guide your hand as it sees fit; here, you are not producing a masterpiece. That comes later. Try not to look back at what you are writing; and do not judge it.

Why did I just do that?

Hopefully, this question just answered itself. However, if you are still unconvinced, consider the following; every word you write releases energy inside you. When you put thought into word, whether that thought be linear or free-associative, it allows you to move on from that thought and direct your point of view according to that thought. For instance, if you have written

"I don't like football", you have released the energy your brain was directing into that thought. Now, whether you knew you didn't like football or not, you can move on from it, and either investigate the thought further, "Why don't I like football?" or move to a different thought process; "I like cricket".

In other words, in completing that exercise, you have done yourself a great service. Congratulations. Now, in the nature of these things, you may not feel as if this release of energy has taken place. Take a moment just to balance yourself again and re-introduce yourself to yourself. We've been through some pretty deep concepts already. Then read your writing again, and allow yourself to react to what you see on the page, to think through some of the logic, some of the imagery, some of the mental pictures you have created. What is good in the writing you have just done? What are the ideas?

Why didn't everyone just do that?

As with any exercise, there will be those of you who for whatever reason, either didn't even start doing the exercise, or started and found it very difficult to continue, and so stopped. First of all, remember, any word you write releases energy inside you. In other words, write the amount that suits you. Don't let books dictate to you, especially books written by serial instruction-ignorers such as me. Take a moment to re-introduce yourself to yourself, taking care to focus on your achievement. Even the merest positive thought of intention to write is an achievement, and the fact that you have got this far through my prose is testament to your intention of writing - and, it's true, there is a way wherever there is a will.

If you didn't have a cup of tea before, do so now!



Chapter II - Writing is a service industry


Writing is a service to yourself. The free, cover-a-sheet-of-A4 writing is a service to yourself, because it reveals new points of view, new facets you hadn't considered and new creative elements. It sets your brain working in a new direction.

 Writing truly is that simple.

If you never again write another word, you have at least discovered that you didn't want to write another word. It's extraordinarily easy to forget just how much we can simplify writing, when we read so much structured writing. It's only logical though that in the process of transforming the writing-as-service-to-oneself into writing-as-service-to-others, your internal critic is going to have to be more awake. Other people are fascinated by their own internal monologues - they do not want to read yours. So the rest of this work is going to be concerned with how to turn writing-for-yourself into writing-for-other-people.

Treat yourself as your readership.

The process we began in the last exercise tried to treat writing as far as possible in a readerless environment. It was an exercise in production, done first and foremost to explore the energy that could be produced. Not all writing done for yourself is so devoid of reader-considerations. For example, if you keep a diary, you generally write for yourself-as-reader, adhering to constraints such as a logical progression so as to make your prose clear and evocative to yourself at a later stage. (As a general rule, I would counsel the keeping of a diary, if only to practice the skills of analytical and descriptive prose).

What do words do to events?

In describing an event you are defining its fundamental nature, its entry point into your memory. This is especially true in a diary. Let's say you have picked up an injury during a game of football.

Diary I

"...and we got a goal-kick. Old Muggins here takes the kick out to Gary on the edge of the area, who passed it back. Typically, he got it all fucking wrong. I dived and that bastard Trevor comes flying in and smacks me in the gob with his boot. Not even an attempt to play the ball. What a bastard typical sodding end to a fucking miserable game. "

Diary II

"...well, another battle-scar picked up today. Gary left me short on a pass-back, so, like the gallant Odysseus, I dived at the feet of Trevor, who completely disregarded the ball and rearranged my teeth with his boot. V nice of him. Result: blood everywhere, and I won't be able to drink from a cup for three days..."

Does not the second version show signs of the healing process in action? The first version, quite apart from any psychological picture it paints, is no great shakes as prose. The writer is clearly expecting his readership to sympathize with him. Readers, though, are notoriously resistant to being told what to do, or how to interpret events. The author of Diary I, reading this later, is likely to be embarrassed by the strength of uncontrolled feeling. Diary II's author, meanwhile, is likely to be amused, and quite possibly struck by what a nasty piece of work Trevor's kick-in-the-teeth actually was.





Writing to serve yourself: a model.

Take a situation you aren't particularly happy with. Maybe you drink too much. Something you would like to change about yourself, anyway. Call it "The Situation", "situation x" or any other term that will make it clear to you what that situation is, while keeping it at arms length from anyone else who should happen to stumble on your writing. You don't want others to read this. If it is a situation you are not happy with, it is probably recurring at more points, and impinging on more levels, in your life than you realise at the moment

Now we come to do some writing:

Step One

Acknowledge situation x, and affirm you want to change it. Don't give it any power over you. Remember, you are mastering it - you are about to do yourself a major service.

Step Two

Show your reader (i.e. you) all the ways it affects your life. If you can't think of any ways it affects your life, write down some other things in your life that you'd like to change. Acknowledge to yourself that you are looking for concrete examples. What I mean is, while this is good:

" ... and I get up late and I worry about what I should do first and am I going to be able to cope..."

this is even better:

"... and yesterday I lay in bed worrying about things and I thought about that deadline for the report and on Thursday situation x cropped up in the middle of cooking dinner and I didn't really want it to be around.."Step Three

Just keep writing, and remember that you have affirmed you want to change, and remember that in doing this you are attacking the problem head-on, and you are entitled to feel marvellous . Strategies, possibilities, steps you can take will all open up to you, and the rewards will be as evident as the problems once were. Remember that just as every word was an achievement in the A4 exercise, here, not only is every word an achievement, but every word here is positive. You have acknowledged negativity as being in the past, and positivity as lying ahead. Write until you really want to stop, and then go three lines further.

"Thus getting rid of situation x will rid me of all the worry about going to the shops, or having enough money to buy food. Not only that, but it will allow me to breathe easier and (oh! joy) to get more sleep at night"

One principle to remember:

It is vital that you stress the positive aspect of what you are doing. In writing this exercise, you have conquered the unfortunate tendency. Within your mind, that tendency has no power, now.

Hang on a second - conquered it - isn't that a bit too definite?

As Brian Clough used to point out to his Nottingham Forest team, "It only takes a second to score a goal." Positivity is an absolute must. Situation x has been dogging you for a while. The first thing you have to do is look at what the decision to write entailed. It entailed an out-and-out rejection of situation x. Say it is opening that can of beer. You had a choice, and you chose instead to come to the computer. That is conquering situation x. Situation x is completely vanquished in that moment. But there is no escape from the struggles of life, there are only differing attitudes towards them. The principle of homeostasis ensures that your brain will resist the change to your routine. Think how it is sometimes difficult to motivate yourself to do something you know you will like. Like going to see a film, when your mind asks you "Can you really deal with the journey into town and all the attendant effort you will have to make to get to the cinema?" When your brain asks that question, you reply, "I'm not going to concentrate on that; I just know that that's something I have to do, because otherwise I won't get to see the film." Similarly in this circumstance, part of your brain will resist the beneficial changes you have instructed it to make. What this exercise has given you is the winning argument . And the winning argument is always positive. So now, the challenge is to use it enough times that it becomes routine.

Why did we call it situation x?

There is more than one answer to this. The obvious one is that it distances the event from your consciousness and means that you don't have to refer to it by name all the time, which might make it potentially distressing or depressing, but there is a further reason for this, related. Yes, this technique can be adapted and adjusted to situations that aren't necessarily pain-producing. "There's nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so" wrote Alexander Pope. A particular situation may have a use when re-framed in a different rational context. In fact, it is important to not get attached to whatever situation you are dealing with. Remember that the situation exists and you just choose to tap into it. At one point, that situation was useful to you. It has outgrown its use now, and its use may never have been consistent with where you wanted to get to, but, to repeat, that situation existed because it was useful to you . Therefore it is important to understand that far from becoming the enemy of whatever situation it was, you should simply refuse to acknowledge it as useful to you in the here and now . It is a principle of the universe that anything you hate, you attract to yourself. Hate engenders fear. Fear and hate are misdirections of energy. Remember, the winning argument is always positive . This is why it is imperative to focus on what you can do to alleviate a given situation.

The fractal principle

A fractal pattern is a mathematical pattern that repeats itself within itself, infinitesimally. It has been shown that fractals constitute many things in the natural world. I am not a scientist, but I have a sneaking feeling that were I to suggest that making a beneficial change to your consciousness repeats that beneficial change at all levels of your existence, I wouldn't be making many enemies.

Writing helps with writing

A frequent complaint encountered from day to day is the "I'm not very good at..." complaint. People are reluctant to try their hand at something because they might not be very good at it. Remember, "nothing is good or bad but thinking makes it so". You can frame situation x as a bad situation or you can frame it as a starting point from where things can only get better. If you frame it as a bad situation, you will have applied an epithet to it that is very difficult to work with. One of the principles of child-rearing is not to use terms such as "bad". It doesn't mean you have to evaluate everything as good. It is nothing more than a re-framing of the situation in terms of its potential. Consider the following exchange:

Smith: Oh dear, that's a bad situation.
Brown: Hmmm.... it's not good...

Whose thought processes are more likely to be in a position to effect beneficial changes to the situation? Brown has his focus on an idea of where the situation should be (it should be "good"), and is thoughtful about the fact that the situation isn't good. Smith has the focus on the fact that the situation is bad, and doesn't communicate the same sense of possibility that Brown does.

Change your perception of your own writing to think in terms of good or its absence according to the accepted principles (range of vocabulary, range of grammar, focus, clarity and accuracy) and you will see everything as a starting point. When I return to the cricket nets after Christmas, for the first few weeks it is a case of building up confidence, of programming the brain to remember the skills I have memorised over the years but still put away at the end of every season. So it is with writing. Everybody can write well, given the will to write well. Think of how many words, spoken and written, you have dealt with in your life. It is being unfair on yourself to believe that you haven't encountered and interpreted the most linguistically complex structures at some point. It is rather like film scores; people listen to seemingly abstruse, disorganised music and reckon that it is new, unfamiliar and unintelligible. However, put that music into a film and it will seem quite natural! It is context that supplies meaning.

Chapter III
More about motivation

There being no harm in repeating a good thing, remember that all writing performs a service for you. In fact, all writing performs a service for its author and also whoever reads it . We saw in the last chapter how the author is encapsulated in his text, even when the reader is the same person. If John writes something, when John reads it back to himself he will have changed by very virtue of time having passed, quite apart from his having released the energy through writing (I should add that this happens with or without the belief of the writer - as Sri Yukteswar Giri, a c.19th Indian master, pointed out, "the law of gravitation worked as efficiently before Newton as after"). Another concept that is very important is that writing can be made to serve whatever purpose the reader has for it.

Put very simply this is easy to see; if you have written something - say, an adolescent poem - some years before, and you dig it out later, knowing that it is unlikely to be of any value but simply to see what your influences were at the time, you are already using it for a purpose different to the purpose that you wrote it for (to encapsulate an experience, to make your name as a writer, to bring in lots of lovely £££ or $$$ or €€€). But it also implies that reading is a struggle or a dance between the reader's pre-conceptions and what the text is telling him, where the text is pulling him. As a writer, words are your tools, to do with as you like. As a reader, words are influences, pulling you hither and thither.










































Who's going to win this battle?

You are. We all are. Hold on to your hats, as we will have to dip into some quite interesting topics and subtopics here.

Literary Theory

It may surprise you to learn that English has only been an examined subject at Oxford University for a little over a hundred years. The greatest University in the known Universe (ahem!) existed for 700 years without a course of study for the literature of the language. The twentieth century, though, referred to somewhere recently as The Century of the Self , saw an explosion in interest in studies of systems of thought. This can partly be accounted for by the rise of a post-Nietzchean atheism ("God is dead," he pronounced) which was accompanied by a rationalism that was the legacy of the eighteenth-century. Man, amazed by his own technical advances during the Industrial Revolution, forgot how to cope with machine, resulting in two bloody slaughters in thirty years. A great metaphor for this is the sinking of the Titanic.

Now there's a good exercise for today. If you are stuck for something to do, treat the sinking of the Titanic as if it were an Old Testament incident. This exercise should occupy you for as long as you want, but I reckon you can get 1000 words out of it if you try. Feel free to e-mail me the results. I will post my effort here tomorrow. Spend no longer than an hour on it, if that. Research? Do as little as possible. Write from what you already know unless it's really necessary to look something up.

Anyway, back to the Titanic. Pronounced unsinkable, the ship became the symbol for the arrogance of a humanity that knew instinctively that it was right, that knew that it had mastered nature, that knew that it was the apogee of creation, and that didn't know that it was about to find out how wrong it was. Was this the natural end of the Victorian duplicity treated so humorously and harmlessly by Oscar Wilde in The Importance of Being Earnest? Maybe the difference between the one and the other is the light touch with which Oscar painted sins that were being humourlessly committed by his generation, who were busy setting up the cultural conditions for as crass a pronouncement as "this ship is unsinkable."

Put another way, one of the effects of the demise of superstitious religion was the interest in systems of thought to replace what had previously been ascribed to God. This affected every area of life, and necessarily affected writing.

Literary Theory

I studied at St Edmund Hall, Oxford for three years. I have been writing for twelve years and reading for twenty-five. You may have noticed I have an opinion on most things. I cannot tell you what Russian formalism is, nor tell my structuralist arse from my post-feminist elbow. Literary theory is the most ephemeral sort of writing, fine if you like that sort of thing. But I wouldn't foist it on my worst enemy. If writing about music is like "dancing about architecture," then writing about writing is like dancing about dancing. All dancing is about dancing. All writing is about writing, because the reader can come to it with the intention of critiquing the style, critiquing the content, seeking material to reinforce her political beliefs or seeking material to challenge her view of the world. "Seek and ye shall find" is true, but what ye find may not necessarily be what ye sought. A writer pours herself into language, but cannot take control of it, and what a reader perceives has a totally unknown content of the writer. How many times have you read an article somewhere and said "Is he being serious?" Un fortunately, the language for humour and the language for seriousness cannot be accurately distinguished , as I have found to my cost!!

This is all very depressing. You mean words can't do anything ?

First of all, it's not depressing. Never let yourself be depressed (see chapter II). To take the second point, "poetry achieves nothing" writes Auden, "it survives in the valley of its own making". What he means is, "You can take a horse to water, but you can't make it drink." Words are catalysts for particular directions of reasoning and the meanings of texts depend on assumptions that readers bring to them. Readers change, but their texts remain the same. Perhaps the very writing that tries to achieve something is the very writing that fails.

Chapter V
How are readers influenced?

It's time to recapitulate. We have seen:

1. That an author creates a text by accessing a pre-existent set of concepts called words, and arranging them in a formation such that structured ideas about the world emerge.

2. That the ideas are not the same as the words; they are merely mediated through those words.

3. That the process of creating the text, in crystallising those ideas, allows the author to move on from them, through an automatic release of energy, and through the controlled direction of the author of what he is writing.

4. That new structures and connections between ideas are then generated to be evaluated by the reader, whether the reader is the author or someone different.

5. That the exact nature of these ideas depends on the reader much more than on the text.

The ranking of a text

Exercise:

What makes you read a text? How do you read a text? Consider different types of text. Take five different types of reading matter, getting a mix of the "functional" and the "leisurely", the "challenging" and the "relaxing", the "poetic" and the "prosaic". Consider the questions carefully and write about each.                                                                                      (25 marks)

What is the first question a reader asks herself when faced with a new text? When boiled down, the question is always
Is it worthwhile to pursue this text?
By a process miraculous in its dependable simplicity, the reader understands instinctively on a deep, inexplicable, and not always conscious level, the amount of love that the author has put into a work; in other words the amount of service the author has attempted to provide to the reader in creating this text. Then, the reader selects a level of reading that suits his purposes. Again, this selection happens both at the conscious level and the unconscious level (as with everything in life).

What are the influences on the reader's choice of reading level?

Right. This is my essay for twenty-five marks. The reader's selection of a level of reading is not necessarily determined alone by the level of service she recognises as having gone into the writing of the text. In other words, we may read a trash novel quite intently and critically and merely cast our eyes over
Othello. This is related to the point about never being dictated to by the text. The reader weighs up the importance of the act of reading when cast by how much time he or she has before picking the kids up, cooking the dinner or watching the 3:45 at Chepstow. On an unconscious level, however, the reader will judge her own level of reading by a standard dictated by her conscience, and that standard will be affected by what she sees as the quality of service in the text .

The level of service that has gone into a text can be measured empirically but never reduced to an intelligible mathematical formula (except by God, who is omniscient and therefore knows the mathematics behind everything in the universe). It is impossible for any human source to understand the mathematics of any empirical event fully, just as it is impossible that a God could be puzzled by anything. Ultimately, the author is the only human source who can measure the level of service, for he knows the amount of effort he put into his writing. If the writing is designed to communicate definite information, and convince people to take up an offer, for example a leaflet for an adult education course, he can judge how successful he has been by the number of applicants for the course. However, he cannot judge how successful he or she is until enough experimental data has been brought in to suggest that a particular way of organizing the information is more effective at achieving his goals than one previously tried. A badly-written advertisement may succeed in despite of itself in bringing in the subscriptions, but the level of commitment and enthusiasm of the subscribers will be directly affected by the quality of the advertisement and how each individual reader feels treated by the leaflet's compiler.

In other words, another wording of that first key question is how do I feel treated by the author? This happens in all writing. Generally, we don't expect to find the following when we go for information:

"Defined is this course by your attendance,
Defined by the monthly reports your progression,
Four hundred and fifty pounds must you part with,
At ten a.m. the hour becomes in session

Let the cry go out: Hamlet is our text
And thence we'll comprehend A Town Called Alice,
Each lesson pursued by discussion of the next;
And essays will be marked from love, not malice."

Exercise: You have found the above on a course leaflet for a part-time literary appreciation adult education course.
 (a) Assess it as a poem. Point out good and ordinary features (5 marks)
 (b) What are its faults as a leaflet (concentrate on how you would improve it). Assume that all the information needed is contained within the poem. (10 marks).

Now. Compare this to an actual leaflet I picked up the other day. The institution from which I garnered this gem will remain nameless, but bear in mind this leaflet is designed to attract and inform potential customers for a literacy (i.e. basic reading and writing) course. Luckily, the leaflet isn't copyrighted, so I can reproduce it here.



LITERACY COURSE

Course Aim: To improve literacy skills

Course Content: Students and tutors plan the learning programme on an individual basis. There is a focus on 'real-life' literacy and on building confidence as well as skills.

Assessment:

Students and tutors agree learning goals, which are regularly reviewed

Entry Requirements:

There are no formal entry requirements but you need a commitment to regular attendance

Qualification in Context and Future Opportunities:

The course is for adults who want to improve their literacy skills for a range of different reasons. Advice and guidance on further opportunities is available on an individual basis.

Pre-Entry Preparation:

A willingness to learn, and an awareness of the importance of literacy in every-day life.

 


Chapter VI
Challenge

Man's constant state is striving. Even the idle are striving after rest and thereby happiness. The person who attempts suicide is usually seeking to show others that they should be helping him more, and the person who commits suicide is striving again for rest and happiness. Luckily, we are not concerned with either case here. Both are ducking a challenge.

The leaflet at the end of the last chapter presents a challenge to its readership. It presents a challenge to the most advanced reader, which you might say is of dubious appropriateness. It will most likely encourage a very superficial level of reading by virtue of its dead tone. The author comes across from this piece as not interested in her subject material - what is "an awreness of the importance of literacy in every-day life?" Assuming that it is the awareness that being able to read and write is a good thing, why bother to put it into the leaflet? Does the author assume that there are people in this country who don't think like that? Does the author assume that there are people who could understand writing like this and yet still need the course? Can one go out and buy a "willingness to learn" as pre-entry preparation? So the first challenge for any critical reader of this pamphlet and any writing student is:

Why did she write like this and how do I *not* write like this?

I picked this leaflet up from a local College of Technology. It was one among thousands on show in the front of the building. All the leaflets were in the same style and a quick glance at two or three more leaflets showed that they were all made on the same formula. It doesn't take a genius, or even a writing tutor, to surmise that;

1. somewhere on the school's computer system there is a MS Word template stating the requirements for all information leaflets. So the leaflet may be designed to give information about the course, but what it actually does, what its first duty is, is to conform to a specific formula. Remember, you must keep sight of your intended reader. This woman (for it was a woman who compiled this leaflet) has as her intended reader someone other than the potential customer . That much is clear from the leaflet's style. Communications disaster no. 1; brought on by red tape. We can only surmise the process by which this leaflet reached the front of the building, but it's a pretty sure bet it came via a level of management.

2. the author is probably deskbound and almost certainly under quite a lot of corporate pressure to conform to a system. It is likely, given the way offices work, that in addition to a large workload, she was given this job to do with no support or feedback for her efforts, and no encouragement to make the document 'user-friendly'. What she was told was probably "get this document out to me by lunchtime." She certainly hasn't thought about what she's writing.

It may be that the course fills up through other means and that the leaflet truly is just a marketing gimmick, but to the critical reader it portrays (maybe betrays!) an office not at peace with its subject matter, itself or its clientèle. It certainly does no favours for the author, for which she herself is squarely responsible.

In the above I may be being exceptionally kind to the author herself and exceptionally severe on an office culture which may be designed to prevent slips like that happening. It doesn't matter; both the author and the institution have implicitly accepted the document and the fault must lie somewhere. So where does the fault lie?

Re-framing

There is a habit in the business world of banning the word "problem." Certainly one of the offices I have worked in didn't have "problems".

Instead it had "issues". But you don't want issues, just like you don't want problems. You want challenges.

Why don't you want issues either?

Because whereas calling something a "challenge" is genuine re-framing of the situation, calling something an "issue" is merely attaching a rather artificial label to something until "issue" becomes a synonym for "problem". Challenge is a word with genuinely positive energy. It is a word that reverses the entire context of a problem to emphasise the opportunities whilst not ducking the fact that taking those challenges is not necessarily going to be easy. The word "issue" originally meant progeny or offspring, and the major meaning today is an edition of a magazine. Neither of which have very much relevance to the problem an office finds itself with. Ironically, of course, if business gurus were to point out that 'problem' need not have negative connotations (mathematics), management courses round the country would be pointing this out as from tomorrow!

So everything is a challenge.

Precisely. Life is a series of challenges with the odd period of rest and recuperation.

There are three things you can do with a challenge: take one up, lay one down and lay one aside.

Taking up the challenge

When you accept a writing task, be it one imposed from without or within, you must face it as a challenge. As soon as you re-frame a task as a challenge, you bring it into the realms of the possible. Sometimes writers will set themselves deliberate technical challenges; W.H.Auden for instance started writing poetry by trying to master technical forms; trying to find ever more complex ways of arranging words. Yet challenges need not be technical - simply the task of writing a poem for one's girlfriend can be a challenge, a challenge that may involve as much a challenge of subject matter as technical form. For my poem Ali-Cats (which can be viewed on the homepage), my challenge was simply this, and among the sketches for the poem are two other complete poems, one about an office Christmas party and one about an evening in watching Australia v West Indies and contemplating. Both I eventually rejected as not good enough, and I had to throw the baby out with the bath water and go back to the drawing board (spot the mixed metaphor). Finally I came up with the idea of describing Ali-Cats, I took up that challenge, and wrote the poem. It didn't do anything for a doomed relationship, but it's a bloody good poem.

Homeostasis and Challenge

Remember, a good thing needs to be repeated. So the moment you have found the idea you are making a challenge, you need to cement that resolution in your consciousness. Repeating the thought to yourself is one way to do that, but we already know that thoughts are very fluid things, and a resolution made with definite strength at one moment is a forgotten thing the next. So the solution? Write the first draft.

The First Draft
  • doesn't have to be the same length as your final meisterwerk
  • doesn't have to bear very much resemblance to your final meisterwerk
  • will be great if it contains all your thought processes on the subject at that particular moment
  • is better if you don't allow distractions such as research to crowd in
  • is therefore not work, but is payable

Remember, in writing, your ultimate employer is yourself. There is a business magnate in Brazil, Ricardo Semler, who has totally transformed the commercial model, and one of his major innovations is that employees set their own salary levels . This is a beautiful model; it allows business to move beyond a command-and-obey method into a truly analytical age. What happens when you give employees (or anyone else for that matter) more leeway to think, to decide and to plan? I'm not even going to suggest an answer.

Why is this important to you? You take control of the writing process when you decide that all projects, whether your own baby or the imposition of another, are ultimately aspects of your own self-employment. It seems ridiculous in a writing course to invoke the basic human right to self-determination, but writing and creativity in general is the only means of being free in a society which won't ever let you take advantage of it without demanding something in return. There is a lot of talk about how this is an age of leisure, how computers have so lessened the time we need to spend on perpetuating the human race and society, that we can spend time watching television and doing the things we want to do. In fact, this "ideal" is almost always talked of in the future tense. This is the premise behind insurance policies, among other things. Yet it is illusory. The man or woman who sits idle day after day soon incurs the wrath at least of those around him or her, if not himself or herself . Note the importance of the term "waste of space". That is one of the words with the most hidden power, "waste". The idea of waste is the idea of spending without benefit, and you start to waste time when you lose sight of what you are achieving or trying to achieve. Consumerism is an interesting term. Fire consumes. Greed, anger or lust consumes. Jealousy consumed Othello. The story of Othello can be seen as a metaphor for the human psyche. It is almost as if Othello needs crisis. In the administrative placidity of Cyprus, (possibly to be conveyed by a modern office block?) he loses the focus. The "weakness" of Shakespeare's dual time scheme can be turned to strength here, to emphasise how so little of import happens in a typical office that petty rivalries and jealousies can assume huge proportions. My take on consumerism is this: War comes when man consumes only what he wants. Peace comes when man consumes only what he needs .

By a roundabout process we come back to my original point, which was about self-reward. A fundamental tenet of religious thought is that voluntary renunciation, however brief and however small, is akin to the return of a prodigal son. In other words, when you admit even for a second that you may still have work to do to earn that rest, when you doubt for the merest second the primacy of your ego in dictating what is best, whether you know it or not, you have turned back to God, and He will shower you with blessings. The fact is, it is also wonderfully addictive. You will find yourself doing more and more with less and less thought of what you might or might not get in return. Slowly, but surely, the focus of your life will change from consumerism to service providership , which, as everybody points out, brings its own rewards. Another fundamental tenet of religious thought is that Jerusalem wasn't builded here in a day. Changing the focus in your life takes time, and we all need to rest sometimes. True rest involves getting over the panic of divine retribution if you don't attain Jesuitic heights. The comforting truth is that we are all miserable sinners before God. The gutter is crowded with the entire human race, so any time at all you can spend star-gazing (contemplating eternal verities such as Truth, Light, Joy, Love) you are building the means to get out of the gutter. Thus, the duty is to encourage others to star-gaze, and to encourage others to help us build our way out of the gutter. Encouragement, co-operation, service. What great principles for a way of life!!

In other words, once you have had an idea, it is important that your first reaction be to write the first draft. The more official you can make this draft, the stronger the idea will be etched into your brain. This is also a way of taking control of a task imposed from without. Going back to the leaflet above, which we decided was probably the result of a particular corporate attitude, it is absolutely vital to note that not only was it the responsibility of the organization, but it was the responsibility of the individual who drafted the document to make sure that the document achieved what it set out to achieve.

Communism and "Communism"

The ideals of the founders of communism were to bring about a just society in which power was not imposed, not wielded like a weapon, but created by consensus. They foresaw a society in which man would co-operate with his fellow man. Throughout the twentieth century though, the ideal of communism was seen as something that had to be imposed. Dictators such as Stalin saw fear as a necessary tool in the excising of greed and excessive consumption. This led to societies where excess consumption was impossible, but did nothing to address the desire for excess consumption, and led to societies in which fear, that most constricting of emotions (check out the science of fear!) was an integral part. In effect Stalin was attempting to impose on society something he thought he had imposed on himself - perfection. The very fact that he was trying to impose something on the outside world shows the extent of his delusion. "Change yourself and you have done your part in changing the world" (PARAMAHANSA YOGANANDA). Philosophy teaches us that the healthy state is the fearless state; self-Mastery, where you no longer fear aspects of your own psyche, because you control them. Self-control then means you can offer real service to the world; when you rein in your own consumptive instincts, your own desire for instant progression or accumulation of that which you want, you are then free to consider what else exists in the world besides the fulfilment of your personal desires. If you have never asked yourself this question for a long enough time to listen for an answer, read through this "challenge" chapter again, then go and take a walk into town, or a swim, or any other of your favourite leisure-time pursuits. Personally, I like to sit in the park every now and then. I cannot tell you the answer. I know my answer, but it is only my answer. I don't have your answers, but what I can promise you is that the answer will break forth with immense joy. As soon as you find yourself laughing, you will know you have found an answer.

What's your point about writing, caller?

Writing the first draft of an "imposed" task, such as an essay or a memo, makes that task yours - makes it a challenge from yourself to yourself - a challenge to shape your writing until it addresses the opportunities in the task. No longer then do you have to consider whether you like the teacher or the manager who imposed the task. That becomes irrelevant, a separate issue that you can deal with in different ways. Taking control of the task will only increase your desire to perform the task, especially since you will be stumbling upon your truths by writing that first draft, finding out what makes you tick and performing a fractalised service for yourself. This is the "everyone's a winner" model.

Chapter VII
Elements of the Writing Process

The Physical Process

There are two important points in the physical process of writing; namely where you begin and where you end. Your first draft, as we have seen, is a vital motivational tool in keeping you writing, and of course, your final version (note the change of term) is self-evidently important. The process of how you get from A to B is potentially the most rewarding part, as you see your ideas, thoughts, and language take shape. There may be many different kinds of writing, but, as we saw earlier, there is only one language. Different words have different connotations; a lot of the Romance words in the English language, the longer words from French and Latin and Greek, have connotations of formality, whereas words of a Germanic origin are more likely to have informal vibrations, but the secret to good writing is to mix words from all sources in appropriate measure. This appropriate measure in poetry will be majorly defined by considerations of 'memorability', (one of the more successful definitions of poetry being 'memorable speech'), and in prose by clarity and function. We will consider words in more depth later.

The Psychological Process

One of my biggest regrets is that although at school I had mastered the art of writing to quite a degree, I hadn't mastered the science of writing. I kept escaping with essays; procrastinating and surviving despite the odds. This caused a lot of unrequested unhappiness, and had quite a complex series of "causes", but the effect was the same; I was not approaching the process of writing in a scientific manner. Often the first draft would be left very, very late. This may not have handicapped me insofar as I finally made it into Oxford, but it caused a lot of unnecessary grief. I would approach a typical essay in the following manner

pre-task planning 85%, first draft 5% task completion 10%.

pre-task planning

There is a Grateful Dead song, Lady with a Fan, which tells of the rivalry of a soldier and a sailor, different aspects of the human psyche. For those of you who don't know the song, the premise is that there is a lady who throws her fan into the lions' den, setting down a challenge and setting up her love as a reward ("Which of you to gain me, tell, / Will risk uncertain pains of hell / I will not forgive you / If you will not take the chance"). Quite apart from this drama being played out daily in pubs, clubs, workplaces and other social situations all the world over, for our purposes the lady is a symbol of success, and the act of fan-retrieval the act of writing. It is the sailor who goes after the fan; the soldier "being much too wise: strategy was his (my italics) strength, not disaster". Guess who gets the lady.

Much of pre-task planning is mere procrastination. I used all sorts of excuses and reasons to delay my first drafts but learned one major thing, and that very late; I learned that a duty unbegun hampers all your efforts to avoid it. So, for instance, when as an undergraduate, instead of beginning that essay on Chaucer, I watched the Embassy World Snooker Championships on tv or went to the pub or just sat in my room doing not very much, always in the back of my brain would be the unsettling consciousness that sooner or later I was going to have to start doing work. Not only this, but in fearing the process of doing work, I was actually giving it an aura of impossibility which it really shouldn't have had, which meant that when I came to start it I was hardly ever satisfied with what I was writing, partly as a result of not having very much time and partly as a result of all the fear and negativity I'd been feeding into the task. This had the knock-on effect of making tutorials a nightmare, as often I would turn up without a finished essay, and with the consciousness that nothing I had done that week had been completed to any satisfactory degree. And speaking of unsatisfactory degrees, it reflected in my Lower Second, when I should have been getting a First with room to spare.

How should I have approached it?

It's easy to see now! If I had gone from every tutorial with the express intention of beginning to answer the question, if I had gone and written up my thoughts immediately in first draft form, I would have been able to see clearly what I needed to do in order to mould the draft into a version; I would have found a reason for studying, and I would have been able to reward myself within reason for the work I had done at the end of every day with maybe a pint or two. I would still have been able to lead a social life, but that life and all the other aspects of that life would have been spiritualised by the consciousness of carrying out tasks successfully. Still, it's easy to regret now. These days I write about the past as if writing about a different person - I look back not in anger but merely to remind myself of the lessons of the past.

Doing the first draft immediately has another benefit as well. In procrastinating until the last minute, you are making the amount of time needed automatically100% of the time available. My reasoning for not doing first drafts right away (check this out!) was that "since I'll find enough work revising and tinkering the essay for it to take up the entire time anyway, I may as well not begin it for a while." I was using my non-enjoyment of the work to justify its procrastination, non-enjoyment that sprang from precisely that procrastination! Viciously circular reasoning.

There is one other element to any writing process which we have yet to cover - the supertask. This term is my particular coinage, and refers to the element of any written work which communicates over and above the task. The supertask may be compared to God's reaction to the prodigal son's return; the divine reward for diligence in carrying out a task. This is directly related to service; diligence comes form the Latin diligo, -ere (3) - "I love". Notice how this word has been transmuted in English into meaning hard work. Blending the two meanings together can be revealing. As we have already remarked, everything in life is hard work. Everyone has to have some direction in which to turn their efforts, whether they be employed, unemployed or seeking work. So you have chosen to write. Pour all your energy into completing the task, being as selfless as you possibly can be, and know that there is a Divine power contributing the communication to your readership exactly how much love, effort, service you have put in. Going back to our leaflet, it can reasonably be presumed that someone who was able to read the leaflet could interpret it; the language, although obscure, conforms to a norm for corporatese. It is an example of something where the task, the conveying of information to the reader, has been more-or-less completed, but where the supertask detracts from the task; the task says "here is the information", but the supertask admits "I didn't want to write this leaflet; I didn't write it with you in mind," and similar messages. Our poetic effort, on the other hand, conveys a different message with its supertask; one that again doesn't quite communicate to the reader what a course leaflet should. The problem of the one is that not enough thought has gone into the leaflet's readership, and the challenge to the reader of the other is that that thought contradicts the sense of appropriateness.

The supertask element then is the contribution of the Divine to reward any successful and diligent task-completion in expected and unexpected ways. It is not that you have to believe in God to work this way; you don't have to have believed a thing about what I have been saying in this essay; remember - the law of gravity worked as efficiently before Newton as after him; and not even Einstein has gravity completely worked out.


Chapter VIII
Writer's Block


"You know you can build any prison, any that you choose,
And later discover the prisoner, - the prisoner is you"
The Thompson Twins

Remember - all distinctions we make about writing can only stand up for so long. Intellectual distinctions in any field are relative and all relative phenomena are part of an unrelative whole. The parable of the blind men and the elephant is a relevant one for our age. Man's comprehension of the universe is necessarily partial; it is only a Divine being who has total comprehension of everything, a Self-realized master. Doubt is a necessity for belief to convert into faith (belief carrying the weight of intellectual assent, in other words a conviction that "yes this is the case", and faith being an extension of belief until it becomes part of the groundwork from which one operates. Faith then can be seen as an assimilation of intellectual convictions until they are fundamental to one's whole being. The only way one can assimilate a belief is to have that belief proven . For instance I might believe that I am a great writer, but until I am published I am not going to allow that consciousness to dictate the way I act in relation to my writing; and the more I get good reviews and the less effort it takes for me to get good reviews, the more
a) I will be able to have faith in my greatness as a writer, and stop worrying about it
b) I will believe that by putting a bit more work into my writing I will be a greater writer


beliefs that are never questioned can be seen as faiths. The accumulation of faiths is the accumulation of knowledge about the world. It is important for man to consistently look at his faiths, because they will define him as a person. If a man's faiths are negative (for instance that life gets harder as you get older, that the world is going to seed, that there is more crime in the world than ever before) then all his actions and thoughts will spring from those convictions; they will be narrowed gradually and he will become the prisoner of his own thought process.

Eastern philosophy, yoga, teaches that whatever man's unquestioned beliefs about the world, there is a higher reality; I am therefore I can . In a footnote to Autobiography of a Yogi , Paramahansa Yogananda points out that Descartes's "I think therefore I am" is a philosophical error, ascribing primacy to words, which are themselves merely the mediating tools of reality and sense-perceptions . Fred Hageman, author of an educational guide, Making the Grades, says:

How do we experience the world? The quick answer is that we experience it through our five senses, but this isn't exactly true. Take the eyes for example. Did you know that we don't see with our eyes? It sounds crazy, but it's true. We "see" with our nervous system and our brain. Our eyes are merely the instruments that receive the light and send it to the brain by way of the nervous system. It isn't until the brain receives the sensory stimuli and gives it meaning that we can be said to be "seeing" anything. The important thing to understand here is that, as far as our response is concerned, our brain acts on our interpretation of the event, not the actual event.

The important thing to note from our point of view is that part about the brain. It is how we frame an event that defines our reaction to it, and it defines our reaction to it on all level s. Turning this round, it is easy to see that the things we say about ourselves, the things we make ourselves believe about ourselves, will provide the filter for all future experiences of that type. This is why I disbelieve in the concept of writers' block as anything other than a psychological hang-up caused either by lack of self-belief or by lack of desire to write.

Writer's Block is an excuse.

Note my re-positioning of that apostrophe. I am personalising it now, because writer's block can seem a very personal and lonely thing. I usually call it writers' block. How do I mean writer's block is an excuse? Well, I don't mean that someone who feels unable to write should be chastising themselves for not writing. I have very great experience of writer's block; for years I found it almost impossible to write - essays, poems, prose, letters - you name it, I've found it difficult. At one stage or another. One point about writer's block is that it very rarely is total. Often you can write one type of writing very easily, whilst finding it difficult to adhere to other forms. So, for instance, in the years when I couldn't write two lines of poetry with which I was happy, I could happily burble away in my diary. Currently I find it very difficult to write a letter, yet I send e-mail after e-mail quite comfortably.

Writer's Block will always exist

Writer's block then is a function of what writing technique you are subconsciously attuned to at any one time. Or tuned out of. So, whenever you are faced with writer's block, you have a choice: you can either

a) work hard to tune yourself back in to the writing task you want to carry out.

or

b) work hard to express yourself in a different way and a different technique.

If the task is one imposed from without, then acknowledgment to somebody else of the problem may help enormously. This is especially recommended for school or college essays. Most assigners of tasks will be only too happy to be approached. Find the right way to approach them; isolate exactly what it is that is stopping you from writing. To do this, it may be necessary to go back to our A4 exercise at the top of this page.

Sometimes with a commissioned work, such as one for which you are being paid, you naturally won't want to go back to the commissioner and admit your temporary unequalness to the task - especially if it turns out, as it may or may not, that the problem does not lie in the nature of the task they have assigned you but somewhere else entirely. In this case, you will have to explore other ways of getting round this problem - remember this sentiment - there is a way wherever there is a will.

Writer's Block may always exist, but you can forget about it

How often have you heard this sentiment from a commentator; "well, that goal totally changes the game!" Sport can teach us great things about how perception determines experience. In Prague, I was part of a six-a-side football team. We were not really of the same standard as the rest of our division (Local League Division 8!!), which we knew, but that was mainly a function of organisation - it wasn't that the rest of the teams were especially talented - it was merely a case of us being new to the scene. Anyway, one afternoon we took a 1-0 lead, which we managed to defend with not much trouble for most of the game; yet five minutes from the end, we conceded a soft goal. At 1-1, what happened next was suddenly always likely to happen. The stuffing was knocked out of us, a sense of desperation prevailed, and we conceded another right on the full-time whistle. 1-2. That day, we had been equal to our task, but as soon as our opposition (who were always expected to win) scored a goal, the collective perception of both teams changed. The feeling at the final whistle was subtly different to any of our other defeats that season; it was really hard to forgive our goalkeeper (who had been at fault for both goals), ourselves, and whatever divine force had decreed defeat. But there is always challenge in disaster, and the challenge was simply to put the defeat in perspective and move on equably back into real life, where it didn't matter. Look at it from the other team's point of view though. We were firmly anchored to the bottom of the table, and had only won once in one-and-a-bit seasons. They were expected at least to get a point from us. Moreover we were foreigners, so there was added incentive to beat us, a competitive national pride. I would wager that half of them were wondering how they were going to explain their defeat to friends, colleagues, members of other teams; yet in the moment they scored that first goal, the whole atmosphere changed for them.

The point is that focusing on achievement, any achievement, completely erases prior consciousness of difficulties or problems. If God is joy as the yogis attest, then any step towards joy brings Divine help. That help then translates into assistance with whatever task you are trying to achieve. Now, if I wanted strongly enough to write poetry, I could. If I wanted strongly enough to write a story, I could. However, if my reasons for wanting to write a poem are not as strong as my reasons for wanting to write more of this essay, it's going to be far simpler to concentrate on this essay. Similarly, if I am trying to write an essay and an earthquake begins, I will find it very hard to concentrate on what I am saying, since the reasons for the self-preservatory activity of getting out of this building are far stronger than the reasons for wanting to finish my sentence on writing techniques.

Writer's Block is a question.

When you find it difficult to write, it is because of a question you have failed to address, that your subconscious is asking you to address. Address it, because until you do, you won't be writing much, and after you do, you will be addressing it more often, though it will no longer frighten you.


Chapter IX
Fiction

fingo, -ere, finxi, fictum (3) - paint

Most writing resources I have encountered on the internet either skirt entirely the subject of fiction or confine themselves to such structural advice as "move forward in time and pause every now and then". Worthy advice, but in a world where the most popular narrative fiction form, film, has entered the sophisticated world of prequels and so forth opened up by works such as Pulp Fiction, that advice is rather redundant. Everyone has been exposed to narrative structures that are far more complex than that, even in terms of the story told in the pub, where quite often you have to hold a central thought in mind whilst dealing with authorial tangents by the dozen.

What is fiction?

It is the translation of world into word (writing the 'l' out of one's universe?)

The central tenet of fiction can be easily summarised.

Every word must drive forward the story.

Notice I don't say 'plot'. The average work of fiction contains far more diverse elements than mere plot. There is a wonderful gothic novel, The Castle of Otranto , which reads like its own plot summary, and consequently like a piece of journalism or a police statement;

Young Conrad's birthday was fixed for his espousals. The company was assembled in the chapel of the castle, and every thing ready for beginning the divine office, when Conrad himself was missing. Manfred, impatient of the least delay, and who had not yet observed his son retire, dispatched one of his attendants to summon the young prince. The servant, who had not staid long enough to have crossed the court to Conrad's apartment, came rushing back breathless, in a frantic manner, his eyes staring, and foaming at the mouth. He said nothing, but pointed to the court. The company were struck with terror and amazement. The princess Hippolita, without knowing what was the matter, but anxious for her son, swooned away. Manfred, less apprehensive than enraged at the procrastination of the nuptials, and at the folly of his domestic, asked imperiously, what was the matter? The fellow made no (cont'd p.94)

Nice scene-setting, perhaps, for a long set-piece. Except that the narrative never slows down. The work is written in gargantuan paragraphs, page after page of action not sullied by the normal conventions of prose or even punctuation, and is short enough overall (80 pages in my edition) to warrant a look. It, and its antithesis, the tangential Tristram Shandy, stand testament to the universality of style. Words, to misquote Brian Clough, are your friends: go out and play with them. One effect of the extreme self-searching to which the creative arts were subject in the last century was to free the concept of style from considerations of 'right' or 'wrong' and attach it instead to considerations of 'efficiency'; if 'does your writing do exactly what it says on the tin?' is the yardstick applied to the essay, then the new yardstick applied to fiction is 'does your writing do exactly what you want it to?' In terms of fiction, this consists of asking yourself if the elements of the world as you perceive it to be at any given moment in the story are conveyed by the words you have chosen. The creative liberation experienced now has not ever been experienced before. The internet provides the best opportunity so far for unfettered self-expression, and the critical climate which prompted Dr Johnson to sniff "Nothing odd will do long; Tristram Shandy did not last" and found its greatest ally in F.R.Leavis's attempts to impose a canon has been replaced by a far pleasanter cultural liberalism which allows the author far more self-determination.

Your every word must drive forward your story.

Your story.

What is story?

Fiction differs from the essay in the way that a three-dimensional universe differs from a two-dimensional one. With the essay, we were dealing in hypotheses and ideas. The axiom 'show, don't tell' was principally an intellectual counsel, designed to make sure you proved your point with evidence. In fiction we are dealing with another layer entirely, one in which the word is designed to convert itself back into a picture in the reader's brain. How often have you read a novel and skimped on the pictorial detail, only to find yourself unable to come to terms with the setting in which the action later takes place. At that moment, you often have to go back and work hard to picture exactly what the author meant to convey. By far the best way to look at what story is though is to read what an author has to say. Jarrow and Tales from Praha are to be found elsewhere at this website. Here I am interviewed about those two.

Interview with the author.

How did you come to write the two works?

They're quite different in their conceptions. Tales was written as I tried to make sense of a madcap eighteen months teaching EFL in Prague. The whole experience changed me in ways I could only begin to comprehend, and I was searching for a way to link elements together. I knew there were stories in there, and I wanted to bring them all out onto the page. As for Jarrow, that was a pretty faithful transcription of a dream I had had the previous night, though tidied up, of course! Tales preceded Jarrow by a couple of months, and was much more the exploratory work.

So Tales is a first draft then?

Emphatically not!! Each section represents one day's written work, but also has been read back to myself five or six times since then. It is too untidy to be called the final version, perhaps; but I was very conscious when I was writing it of writing on the web. Readers on the web have notoriously random styles of reading, concentrating one moment and glancing through reams of stuff the next. I tried to give readers something, some novelty, in every sentence. Can we call it a second draft?

What struck me about Jarrow was the lack of a story behind it. Was this intentional?

It's like an endgame, I think. I think there is a type of writing whose function is to suggest. What I've tried to do there is make gestures, to leave words, phrases and features of the story jutting out, hinting at a pre-history that the reader will fill in for themselves, building their own story, and hopefully identifying with the characters enough to want to fill in the blanks. It really is a story which repays re-reading. Even for me - maybe especially for me - precisely because it is so elusive.

What functions did writing these two works perform for you, both as a writer and as a person?

The impetus to write fiction comes from a knowledge that a particular situation or period of time overwhelms me, that I haven't come to terms with mental pictures and that I can see them translating into really good language. Tales was specifically designed to rid me of a lot of self-indulgent energy; there was a lot that I wanted to say, and I knew roughly how I wanted to say it, but had no idea how I was going to make a story out of it. At a later date I might well go back, tidy its loose ends up. I think Jarrow is the much more generous work in that respect, requiring no special perseverance from the reader in following the story. However, in terms of wisdom, food for thought and sheer variety of material, Tales is possibly the richer work.

Thank you very much.

In the above interview we see very clearly that story is the overriding unificatory elements are of what you are writing. As such, and remembering the function of words as releasers of energy, your story is more than likely to be modified by the very act of writing. This in itself is sufficient reason to have a loose conception of what you want to achieve at any one time, and why the most fruitful attitude to have in relation to your subject matter, your themes, characters, situations, plot and whatever other elements make up your fictive world, is one of awed humility. Your words are going to reveal all these elements as you write, and it will often be necessary to keep your mind open to developments which may seem at first impractical to incorporate. Throughout writing and re-writing, the more points of view you can encompass entitle you to have more characters, more variety in plot, and more imaginative language. To this end, I would counsel you - use your vocabulary. Use the first word that presents itself, even if that word sounds pretentious, or if no word immediately presents itself, ponder until it does. What concept are you trying to evoke? Which word comes nearest this concept? You will soon find that (and this is entirely logical of course) most mental blocks can be demolished by just finding 1 (one) word.

Every word must drive forward your story.

Put simply, when you read back your story in whatever draft or version, the more carefully you can read it and make sure that every word is contributing what you want it to contribute, the more service you are putting into the work. The more you accept as your task, the more supertask you will have drawn upon. This is not a function of time alone. There is no point keeping hold of a work with which you are happy if it feels right to set it aside, submit it or publish it. It is a function of making sure that everything in your story does something , even if you're not quite sure what that something is, or how it will be received. The only sure way to proceed is to know that your work will get the reception you want for it, and then make sure it deserves that reception.

 





















Chapter One: What do words do?

"There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy"
                                                                                          William Shakespeare, Hamlet


Words mediate existence. They provide the vehicle in which we bring reality to ourselves or to other people. They are however no substitute for the reality. How, in words, can you describe the taste of coffee, for example? One of the most revealing exercises we ever undertook at school was when our English master asked us to describe a typewriter, and then, from our definitions, drew on the board what could be understood from those words . Firstly, all our definitions differed massively; someone might write "a box with keys and a ribbon", and someone else would write "a metallic open-faced cuboid that projects ink onto paper". Both are definitions of a typewriter, yet not necessarily. Only if we agree the thing being described is a typewriter.

If you cannot control somebody else's perceptions of what a typewriter is, how can you control somebody else's perceptions of more abstract or complex concepts such as love, society or cricket? This is a primary rule of writing:

Words cannot control

No matter how strong your language, you can never impose your point of view upon an unwilling reader or listener.

If you are using language to express a point of view (as in an essay or a letter), practically this means you can use as strong, definite language as you like. Consider the two following essay extracts;

"Possibly we should consider the idea that Hamlet is responsible for what happens to him"

"Hamlet brings his suffering and anguish upon himself"

on the other hand...

on the other hand, it puts a definite responsibility on the wielder-of-words.

"You can't win anything with kids."

This was the famous Alan Hansen quotation, portentously delivered in August 1995, about a Manchester United team who that season went on to do the league and cup double. How he must have wished he had phrased that a little more carefully!

Words are tools

The fact that words cannot control pales into insignificance when we consider the range of things they can do













I don't want to turn this into a theological book, so I'm going to reassure you on a concept. God exists. Do you disagree? We are not going to labour this point, and if you choose not to believe me, well, that's fine. It didn't deter Milton!! Read on, though. Don't be one of those people for whom the very mention of the word 'God' causes fear and flight. Many of those people read Shakespeare, and for the duration of whatever play they are reading, they are willing to suspend their disbelief, and almost all of those people watch television drama or laugh at jokes. Laughing at a joke, or even just being willing to judge whether it is funny or not and then give the appropriate reaction, is a form of co-operation with the text. So, co-operate with me on this text, because I do have a use for Him (or Her, as George Mikes reckoned She must be).

We are all authors and we are all readers . (I will probably find myself interchanging the terms 'author' and 'writer' throughout this course with an uncertain degree of consistency; this is a sure sign of the freshness of the product I am serving up to you. I am unsure of the distinction I make, have made, will make, or want to make between the two, but as we progress, it will become clear to you, thee, me, us.) Even if we talk to no-one else, we talk in a dialogic process to ourselves. Every day within our brain, we go through a process of creating and criticising reality for ourself, reality that has little to differentiate it from the world of the first person narrative. Words mediate the world to our consciousness. Even when we imagine pictures, such as in a dream, we mediate the experience to ourselves through words when we wake up.

Are words sufficient then?

"Less talk, more action." How often have you heard this phrase. Words mediate experience, but they are no substitute for the experience itself (talking about something is no substitute for doing it). Words have a job to do, however. They mediate experience and shape our consciousness of experience. They allow us to explore points of view.

There is a famous diagram drawn by one of the twentieth century's most repected literary theorists, Ferdinand de Saussure. It shows the communication process as two talking heads facing each other, with a dotted line connecting the mouth of person A with the ear of person B and vice versa, and the lines converging in the brain. I'd show it here if there weren't copyright issues and if you weren't able to draw it for yourselves. The point is that though this diagram shows the general processes of communication, what actually happens is that we are listeners and speakers at different times in the process of a conversation. To fully concentrate on one activity, we have to consciously disregard the other activity. From all of the above, I would posit the following model for the process of written communication:

stage one: writing

author ==>> text

stage two: reading

text ==>> reader

Any model we create for this process is necessarily only a hypothesis - a framework that when investigated too closely falls apart - but I have chosen the above model for two main reasons. Firstly, it disengages the reader from all responsibility to the author regarding interpretation of the text. In other words, there is no reason why the reader should consider herself inferior to the author, even when faced with a particularly impenetrable text (the Wasteland or a timeshare contract spring to mind). Secondly, and of vital importance when it comes to the questions of "Why write?" it is applicable to writing that is done for someone else as well as to writing that is done for one's own purposes.

Why write?

'Why?' questions are the most difficult ones to deal with, for they have a tendency to propagate themselves in different forms. However, the trick is to know that the answer you want exists - you just have to tap into it. This technique is the same for all 'Why?' questions. If you consider the introduction again, you will see the purpose of writing is to communicate. However, this is not to presuppose that we are always in control of what we are communicating, or to say that focusing on that which you wish to communicate, if it exists, is the way to convince yourself to write. The only way to begin writing is to begin. "In the beginning was the Word" (John 1:1) is highly relevant for aspiring writers. Therefore...

Take an A4 pad, or, if you are using a computer, use the equivalent on your word-processor. Set up the external conditions that keep your concentration at its most acute - this might involve playing music, it might involve silence, it might involve going to the pub and sitting there with a half of Best. Whatever - what you are looking for are conditions where you will be prepared to stay somewhere for fifteen minutes to half-an-hour; or to put it in terms more relaxing to those who aren't confident in dealing with amounts of time, one side of A4. Then, pick up your pen and write. It doesn't matter whether you have plans to write anything else, whether you're looking to write a poem or a memo or an entry for the Encyclopaedia Britannica; all I would like you to produce is a side of A4 of writing.

Why did I just do that?

Hopefully, this question just answered itself. However, if you are still unconvinced, consider the following; every word you write engenders a concomitant release of energy inside you. In other words, in completing that exercise, you have done yourself a great service. Congratulations. Now, in the nature of these things, you may not feel as if this release of energy has taken place. Take a moment just to balance yourself again and re-introduce yourself to yourself. We've been through some pretty deep concepts already. Then read your writing again, and allow yourself to react to what you see on the page, to think through some of the logic, some of the imagery, some of the mental pictures you have created. What is good in the writing you have just done? What are the ideas?

Why didn't everyone just do that?

As with any exercise, there will be those of you who for whatever reason, either didn't even start doing the exercise, or started and found it very difficult to continue, and so stopped. First of all, remember, any word you write engenders a concomitant release of energy inside you. In other words, write the amount that suits you. Don't let books dictate to you, especially books written by serial instruction-ignorers such as me. Take a moment to re-introduce yourself to yourself, taking care to focus on your achievement. Even the merest positive thought of intention to write is an achievement, and the fact that you have got this far through my prose is testament to your intention of writing - and, it's true, there is a way wherever there is a will.

NOTE: Writing, being little more than the process of tracing lines in culturally-accepted forms across a paper or of punching a plastic keyboard in order to bring up those forms on a screen, is nevertheless an immensely powerful tool. As we will see in a fuller discussion of Writers' Block, it is very important to stress the positives to yourself. Always stress the positives, for they are much more powerful than the negatives.


Read through the above again, and think what implications it has for you as an author. What questions have you got that I have not dealt with so far? Make a list and e-mail them to me here


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