Words of Redemption

In my post from yesterday, Heather and L shared their thoughts on why they write. L’s comment in particular inspired me to write this follow-up. She says:

I write to clear my head or work out my mind. I write because I have something that I have to let out of me. I write because I am compelled to write. The thought of fortune is highly doubtful and I’ve heard the greats say that glory is as much burden as pleasure. I take pleasure when others gain something from my words, but ultimately I just write because I need to.

Too true, I think. Not only are fortune and glory highly doubtful, but they are never what we imagine. But part of the reason I wrote my post yesterday was because I’ve seen books on writing that use visualization techniques to inspire writers by suggesting that one should close their eyes and imagine their name in lights or that first royalty check.

It bothers me when I read that, and not in a “holier than thou” preserving the purity of the craft kind of way. It bothers me because it 1) trains writers to not only chase after something that is more elusive and unsatisfying than they know, and 2) it turns the pure pleasure of writing into a monetary or aggrandizing pursuit, thus making it less than it could be.

Instead, I see writing like my Uncle sees fishing. Last year, I was visiting family in Boston and talking to my Uncle about Fly Fishing, a sport I am just starting to take up. At one point in the conversation, I asked him what they usually caught. After replying “not much,” he said this:

“We’re fishing for fishing.” - The Venerable Bill Satrom

Brilliant, I thought. Because the goal of fishing for them is fishing, and everything that comes with it, from good conversation, to the sound of a stream hidden miles from civilization. The fish are an afterthought.

And I loved that because not only do I agree, but I see writing that way. Writing to write.

So I wrote my own visualization exercise:

Close your eyes. Imagine a blank page and a heavy pen. Imagine the pen touching that page for the first time, sliding from left to right, line by line until the page is full. Watch the full page replaced by another blank page before the pen carries on, filling up page after page after page of your heart and head. Of your thoughts, ideas, hopes and dreams.

Imagine yourself writing, fingers flying across the keyboard so fast you’re certain the spelling mistakes are piling up behind you, yet there is a smile on your face because you’re creating something true and amazing. Something that inspires you to continue as tens of thousands of words pass before your eyes. Something that only you can create.

Imagine yourself standing with a manuscript in hand, the result of months or years of hard work in a tower of white. It’s heavy, stamped with your voice and raw emotion. You sit to read, maybe for the first time.

Imagine a young boy discovering the joys of reading. He picks up your book and devours it, reading page after page without moving, completely absorbed in the world you have created. He smiles, laughs and cries. He will never be the same after finishing what you have created.

Now open your eyes… and write.

Not something I’d ever build a course around, but you get the idea. It’s a visualization that makes writing about writing (I hope). Not about fourtune, glory, acclaim, credit or ego, but about the process.

Because, to me, the process is more satisfying than fortune or glory could ever be.

*Steps off Soapbox*

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