Writing—it’s romanticized, dreaded, senseless. But it doesn’t have to be. As a Creative Writing Major and Writing Studies Minor, here’s my mini crash course on what you need to know about writing.
- It’s not a divine gift.
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Sure, there are some people who effortlessly write something that’s better than what you could have written in a month, but that’s not important. What’s important is that writing is a secondary facet. What comes first are ideas, the stories, the emergence of a thing you need to say. Writing is the expression of those ideas (one of many), and so it is a skill that can be taught and learned. Unfortunately, the American school system doesn’t do as good of a job as it should of teaching composition, especially creative composition. But don’t worry; all hope is not lost.
- Embrace the Shitty First Draft.
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Anne Lamott has an essay on exactly this (I suggest you look it up). The whole idea behind the shitty first draft is the understanding that the first things you write are most likely not going to be in the last draft you write. Some lines, paragraphs, chunks may carry over, but the first draft is best understood as a clearing of your mind and your thoughts. You stumble and fumble with your ideas, finding the words that fit them. (We fumble because language is imperfect.) Then, once it’s all out, you can reread it, have a better sense of what you’re writing as a whole, and re-approach it with more confidence and surety.
- Getting better sucks.
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It sucks because it requires that you write, and rewrite, and revise, and alter, and edit, and rewrite again before you reach what is considered the final draft. That means other people need to read your work, since you can never be impartial to your own writing. And yes, that means being brave. You will have to accept constructive criticism and understand that it’s not personal, even if what you’ve written is deeply personal. You cannot get so attached to your writing that you aren’t willing to consider other options. Remember: the point is the idea; fit your writing to its best expression.
- There’s no such thing as a “final draft.”
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Really, I mean it. There is only the point at which you decide to stop editing. This means that at any and every point in the writing process, what you have written is transient and temporary, subject to change or remain at any moment. There is no finish line ahead, no perfect version of whatever it is you’re writing. There is only the approximation of perfection, which is the point of comfort and confidence in the latest draft.
- You cannot write within a vacuum.
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For the longest time, I believed that to write something that was totally my own, I had to avoid all influence: at least two weeks without reading anything from any other author. And what would you know, I hardly wrote a thing. Once I started reading a fantasy series, inspiration for my writing came bursting forth, and the more I read, the more I was inspired. Nothing exists in a vacuum, and creativity, art, is inherently social. Take in life and culture, do research, go experience the new. We are inspired by other things, other people, and that’s totally fine. What you write, unless you’ve completely plagiarized (shame on you), is still uniquely yours, even if you were influenced by other texts, people, or events.
- Read. Books. On. Craft.
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Ron Carlson has a book called Ron Carlson Writes a Story in which he gives an accompaniment of his process for writing his short story “The Governor’s Ball.” It is an informative read that goes over some of the basic principles that underlie various craft elements, like dialogue, setting, physicality, outer story, inner story, and more. He also includes exercises throughout, which can be helpful if you’ve found yourself stuck in your writing. Another good recommendation is The Art of series edited by Charles Baxter. Each book in this series discusses the craft of an element of writing. The bonus: they’re not very long. The point, though, is that the more you understand the aspects of writing as a whole, the better equipped you are to effortlessly utilize them to write an impactful, affective story.
- Keep yourself accountable.
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All too often, a story halts production as we wander from our desks, looking about while we wait for the next part of the scene to come to us. (And to be clear, I’m talking about when we’ve first sat down, not after you’ve typed to your heart’s content.) Maybe if we go in the kitchen and grab some coffee, or if we just skip today and return tomorrow refreshed… No. You must resist the urge. The desire to leave is a result of feeling stuck, of not knowing what comes next. Sit through it. Sit with it. I promise you, if you stay put, and if you keep yourself accountable with your writing, you will write, and it will be better than you anticipated. (And also, if it’s not, who cares? You’ve written something, and you can work with that.)
- People may make you feel bad if you try to pursue it legitimately.
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Now, I think we can generally assume that most people don’t mean to make writers feel bad, but it is true that a writer more often than not does not make a lot of money. To be an artist of any kind in a capitalist society is to immediately be in the wrong field of valuation–by which I mean art cannot be properly valued financially. Its merits are a matter of the soul, of the human experience of it, what truth it speaks to. Don’t let the lack of green discourage you–but do take it into consideration.
- Writing is more applicable than you think.
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It is necessary everywhere. Science journals convey research findings through essays and articles, and someone has to write those. Commercials, press releases, cookbooks, product instructions, office memos, reports, newsletters, the sale emails that bombard your spam folder—writing happens in every field. It is the primary means, beyond directly speaking, by which we communicate with each other as a collective. So sure, maybe it’s not glamorous or anything, but it’s a kind of work that you can find literally everywhere.
There is more to writing than I could ever completely cover in one article, but if I had to condense the last four years of my education, this is what surfaces. To write is to be vulnerable, despite the likelihood of numerous rejections and the brutal experience of editing and revision. But if you really love it, I promise you, it’s worth it. So take a chance, or maybe don’t, but at least know what you’re getting into.