How to Flourish in Your Writing (Plus Three Writing Prompts)
By Natalie Goldberg
Author of
Writing Down the Bones,
Wild Mind,
Thunder and Lightning, and
Long Quiet Highway
An excellent way to feel fully free and really flourish in your writing is to develop a sweetheart inside you that encourages you and, most importantly, counteracts your monkey mind or inner editor or critic.
My sweetheart isn’t very complicated. As I write and hear from the critic—who says something along the lines of, “Nat, this is stupid, you are dumb, what you are writing makes no sense”—my sweetheart says something along the lines of, “It’s OK, Nat, keep going. Keep going. Like a swimmer, you’ve got to do those laps.”
Keep your sweetheart simple. I know how complicated a critic can be, but if the sweetheart gets complicated, too, then your two voices will start battling and arguing, which is a waste of your time. Don’t give the critic something to latch onto. Keep it simple; keep writing.
And of course, you have to be free to write the worst shit in America in order to write something good. It’s better to keep your hand moving for ten minutes or a half hour than think for a half hour and have three crossed out words. If you’ve read Wild Mind, you know what I always say: keep the hand moving, don’t think, lose control, say what you want to say not what you think you should say.
And use detail. It’s not a tree but a sycamore, not car but Cadillac, not a horse but a palomino. But listening to your sweetheart, do not chastise yourself if you write “city” as opposed to “New Mexico.” You can always come back a week later and define your city, specifying London or Omaha.
Always have great kindness for yourself. Look over your shoulder: there is no one there. No one cares if you write. It has to come from you, from your effort. There is no hierarchy in writing; you elbow your way into the lineage by your human effort. It is democratic and should be in the declaration of independence—the right to liberty, justice, the pursuit of happiness, and writing. Only human beings write. Clouds don’t, ants don’t.
It is your human right to know your own mind and write your own words. Let your life shine. Tell your dark and dirty, mysterious, bloody, real, and glorious story.
Tell your story of love and loneliness. Tell about the moon, the night you realized you were not going to be a doctor, the morning you had to admit you wanted to write more than anything. Tell how you are scared and what you love to eat, your first kiss and your last. As Jack Kerouac said: be submissive to everything, open, listening. Accept loss forever. Write in amazement of yourself. What about rain and no-rain and the street you live on? What about sickness and ice cream? And don’t forget what you lust for.
Let yourself be alive. This is your one true life. I don’t know about any other.
With your sweetheart in tow, use these three ten-minute writing prompts to write right here, right now:
1. Tell me everything you remember about third grade.
If you don’t remember anything begin by telling me that.
2. Give me memories of red, but don’t say the word red, use words that engender red in the mind, for instance, rose, fire, beets.
3. What do you regret?
Be specific.
Connect with Natalie:
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Readcast this article with your own suggested prompts,favorite writing tips, and insight.
Oh, dear. Permission!
ReplyDeleteIn third grade, I had Mrs. Williams, who was headed at the end of the term for a mission trip to what was then Siam. We learned about the Orient all year. My mother made me a lavender kimono with white fans on it, and an obi, and I had little white socks that split between the big and second toe to accommodate flip-floops. I didn't have chopsticks, but I was allowed to try eating Dinty Moore beef stew with knitting needles; that went rather poorly, as you can imagine. When Mrs. Williams invited a real Japanese lady to come and talk to our class, I got to wear my kimono and introduce her to the class.
All of this nearly made up for the fact that my sweetheart, Stevie, got to skip third grade entirely. I didn't find out until I was grown that I'd been tapped for early promotion, too, but my mother, the kimono maker, didn't want me to miss anything.
I won an art contest for my oriental style painting of a tidal wave with volcanic ash raining down on it.
At the end of the year, my mother took me to Mrs. Williams apartment to say bon voyage. I gave her a gift of Prince Matchabelli scented soap. Mrs. Williams, ever the eccentric, said she would use it to brush her teeth because it would taste sweeter than regular soap.
Oh, and that was the year that Mr. Edens, the principal, came to the door and asked for me. He had come to tell me that my grandfather had died in a car accident and my family was waiting for me in his office.
If I had been promoted to skip third grade, would my grandfather have had to die?
Nance: Xtreme English should award you a prize for Most Sophisticated, Arty Third Grade Experience. It was college at least before I ever heard of an obi. And imagine! a Japanese costume with split socks--in third grade!! In our school, grades 3-6 had a full-time art teacher with her own classroom in the basement, but she never had a painting contest. In fact, she hissed, "There's no such thing as a purple cat!!" at me in third grade when I showed her my first big freehand drawing. I thought it was lovely and complained to my mother about her lack of appreciation. That art teacher also used to sit on her desk in front of the class sometimes, and you could see her underwear when she crossed her legs. My third-grade teacher wore a wig, which tipped sideways when another teacher's ring snagged it as she was gesturing past the third grade teacher's head at the window shades. It was quite dark in the third-grade classroom, and the other teacher was suggesting a little more light. The teachers did a lot of visiting back and forth to each other's classrooms in our school. We had to carry little notes ("come see this" or "come see that") back and forth for them, but I was excused from that duty in third grade because I'd just had polio and didn't do too well on the stairs. I can't remember my third teacher's name now--was it Miss Waters? I missed the whole first half of grade three because of the polio, but they passed me anyway. I was overjoyed.
ReplyDeleteThird grade? I remember on the first day being clipped around the ear by Mr. Beresford (the class teacher) for chiding him that he was merely repeating stuff we'd already covered in second grade :-(
ReplyDeleteRed? Riding my Suzuki TL1000S over the Mountain, whipping past Kate's cottage, powering down to Creg'ne'Baa and scraping sparks through the fast righthander, overtaking the Ducati 916 on the inside.
Speedflow...
Regrets? Losing much of my memories, but only enough to be aware of the fact :-(
I loved her writing advice! And as for the writing exercise about 3rd grade ... wow. That was the year we learned serious grammar and punctuation and for writers in particular, it might be pretty seminal.
ReplyDeleteStu: it never pays to chide a third-grade teacher! Red = speedflow! indeed.
ReplyDeletedon't regret losing some of your memories. not your fault!
Nostalgic: I think you went to a very serious school, and it shows. Don't know how one would describe my school. full of hicks, maybe.
I guess I have a sweetheart because anything I try to do that's hard, so hard I sometimes ask myself "what the heck do I think I'm doing, I can't do this, I'm going to fail," be it writing or a project of some kind, I hear that voice gently whispering "keep going, don't stop, one step at a time."
ReplyDeleteIt's encouraging to know that other people are guided by the same sweet muse.
Thanks M.E. :)
Diana: I love the idea of that sweet, encouraging muse. It amazes me that I've been able to do anything at all without her. My muse says only things like, "Yeah, that looks fun, try it!" and then leaves me to stumble all over the place. But if Natalie Goldberg and you have succeeded so well in what you do, it's time to go looking for the kinder muse in the wilds of my monkey mind.
ReplyDeleteI like "Yeah, that looks fun, try it!" It's sooo upbeat. No heavy labor involved, just see it as fun and enjoy the ride. :) It's a good approach to life's hurdles.
ReplyDeleteAnd look here, more confirmation. Looks like the sweet muse is whispering "Keep gong and do not stop" to the Occupy movement as well.
http://www.adbusters.org/blogs/adbusters-blog/keep-going-and-do-not-stop.html
Hey, I see you have the crossword puzzle up. Looks amazing!
I've got another cool game I'll send you over the weekend. A friend of mine in Brussels, he's a programmer, made it.
Diana: Thanks, thanks. Love the new crosswords, and thanks for the links!! Can't wait for tomorrow when they'll have fresh ones--that is, if they really do switch every day. Wot I originally wanted to do was make my own, like your friend in Belgium. He's got a, um, how you say in English, a head start?
ReplyDeleteI've been playing around with your crossword. Works great!
ReplyDeleteYes, my friend has been at it a long time. He does it for a living. I have to dig into my files this weekend to find his puzzle. It's one of those rubics cubes thingies.
Diana: Rubik's cube in two dimensions? or is this one dimension? you see how ill suited i am to computer programming....
ReplyDelete