Sarah,

We are meaning making beings by nature and it takes leaps and associations to find meanings and to think things through. Research shows we don’t make decisions with our minds only. We use our hearts and intuition as well in a complex blend of interactions as we make decisions. Since we are wired for it
all, we like to use it all. To some of us, writing is the way we do this search for meaning and so despite the frustrations of “not sounding good enough” as we approach the page, we still do it and we revise as part of our searching and thus, we proceed.

Sheila

Sarah,

This is most likely in the eye of the beholder, whether that is the reader or the writer, but there are attributes of creative writing that set it apart from
technical, research, journalistic and science writing. I would say that the
most definitive of the attributes is the desire creative writers have to
create a mood in their reader–nostalgic, sentimental, joyous, awestruck and
sorrowful among them–by shaping their experience for the page. Another
distinguishing attribute is that creative writers don’t fully know what they
are writing about until they have written it. In the other written forms,
the writer already knows what information to impart and writes to impart it.
That’s not to say that writing information you already know doesn’t always
also deliver surprises and help you see things in a new way. So, where does
non-creative writing stop and creative writing start? Along a spectrum, I
would say. A most important question for me when I am writing on a topic to
impart information is, “What is in this for me? What will I learn by writing
what I am about to write?” Seeking something turns all writing into creative
writing for me.

Yours,

Sheila

Brian,

It is indeed a mystery!

I think it is a question of inertia–we get so used to being one way with ourselves, our minds, our time, that it is hard to move into an altered state, which I believe writing is.  Also, to write well, we have to give up control and allow the words to come through us without judgment, at least in starting the material and writing until there is enough down on the page to make good use of our editing and shaping skills. We don’t like to give up control, to be surprised by what we say, to try even at times to make sense of what the words are telling us. And sometimes they tell us things we have been trying to ignore.

But once we have moved beyond the inertia and our brain is in flow, we get such a high. Still, the next time we have to move once more beyond the fear of not knowing what we will have to say as well as the fear that our words are not up to the challenge of saying what we have to say.

Writing isn’t built in one session, though, and as writers we need to look for the words and phrases we put down that we want to continuing writing from and then continue, rather than get stuck in harshly judging our first drafts and freewrites as inadequate.

And guess where we learned such judging ways? In school, when we weren’t taught that writing is a process and where we had to write without sounding like we’d written what we wrote if teachers demanded “objectivity.”

Thanks for the question!

SB

By journaling for ten to twenty minutes three times a week, you can begin to break the habit of not writing.  You can use exercises or prompts to help you start to get experience on the page. Soon you’ll be using the time to do revisions or lengthen the pieces you’ve begun. The minutes will extend themselves and you will find that you have the habit of writing and do it before or after chores. Sometimes we turn to business or chores instead of writing because we know what they demand of us, but writing may take us places we don’t expect to go, and there is some inertia in all of us because of this aspect of writing. So, part of the trick is to recognize when we go to what we know how to do when we should perhaps go to what we are unsure of doing. Then we have to learn to look forward to the surprises writing brings!

A WIR subscriber writes this very good question, “What I find mysterious about creative writing is how do I believe in myself each time I sit down with pen and paper?”

There are many ways we can learn to affirm the importance of what we are doing when we choose to spend our time writing. Here is one: Writing means to consider life and in that consideration, to set down the glow of one or more of life’s sparks. Whether you are
writing about making and losing friends, moving, hearing children’s nightmares and stories, remembering parents and grandparents, planting gardens, exploring new places, walking to the same old store, or about war, abuse, and sad neglect, you are writing not only  to capture life’s meaning but to capture the very struggle you endure
to stay in touch with it. Because we all need to be reminded of how to do this, every piece  you write, no matter the topic, has value to a wide range of readers as well as to you.

What Do the Labels Mean?

Bill Johnson has a good answer in his book A Story is a Promise:

“We get things from life–relationships, jobs, recognition–but not always what we want. Or, what we want goes to someone else. How do we deal with this?

Because people are inventive and creative, we make do. One way we make do is to tell ourselves stories that fulfill our needs…

Because life can operate to remind us that we aren’t heroic or courageous, or whatever need we desire to have validated, stories provide the shortest path for many people to meet their needs.”

In reading prize-winning poetry, some of it is full of imagery AND the
meaning is clear and understandable. Other poetry leaves me scratching my
head; though the words might be beautiful, they are just a jumble of random words. Is it me? Obviously someone thinks those poems are great.

How do you know when you’re really done with a piece?

Dear Sheila-

Not only is there writer’s block, there is writer’s guilt. Past middle age now, my husband supports my staying home and focusing on creative work. There’s the rub! I am finally getting our lives organized enough to have a few extra hours each day. Yet they are still easily drained away with triviality. In order to get my first book written, I had to stay behind while he took a year sabbatical. It is now one year later and my book needs a major re-working before being truly ready. I had several years at home before even beginning to make that bit of progress. I feel stymied every time I sit down. I’ve climbed this huge mountain, and have more huge ones ahead. How can I set up a way to measure progress and focus on what use I can make of the time I do have instead of feel so beaten down?

thanks,