The process of writing it down

A friend just asked me the other day how I write.  I love an open-ended question (other than “How’s it going?”).  But even I couldn’t think right off the bat.  How does anyone write?  I guess now that I’ve asked it, I’d love to know from you!  Another topic I’d love your essays about.  I have to say right off, I have no idea.  I’m not an expert or even an apprentice.  I’ve never taken a class or even read a book about how to write.  I’m not the kind of person anyone would ever take lessons from or who would be asked to give a talk about writing.  I have NO idea how you’re supposed to write.  I’m not even sure I know all the grammar rules.  The only thing I know about writing is it is the one thing I do that feels the most like me.  I cook, raise kids, garden, drive in the snow, whatever.  But writing feels so innate, so natural, so deeply embedded in me.  I think some people have a hobby like that that seems to have lived within them for eons, whether it’s art or piano or reading people or leading large groups or motivational speaking.  For some people it might take awhile to uncover a hidden passion, but we all have something so “us” we hardly notice how unusual it is.

One of writing’s purposes probably is to share information or sentiment—whether people do that honestly or not fills the history books.  But it permits us to share what’s inside us with each other, sometimes in even a more intimate way than speaking.  You with your family, ancestors to the present generation, lovers across the miles, readers and authors, kids with their moms over a wrapped sandwich that says, “Have a great day! Love, mom.”  It’s the potential connectedness that encourages me to share some thoughts with you.

So in answer to her question, I guess that depends mostly on what I write.  She said she analyzes it so much that it takes forever just to make a comment in the boxes on Facebook.  I know, I’ve done the same thing because it seems so permanent once you hit enter.  I wonder if even carefully scripted thoughts will make the translation with the intended emotion intact.  So much harder with the printed word.

Anyway, when I write little notes cards, journal entries, or letters I just write what comes to mind, the reason that prompted me—I just get to the point.  Just the real, unfiltered, truth.  (Unless, I suppose, I was writing an obligatory thank you note on behalf of an organization, for instance, to someone whose performance was kind of lame; then I'd filter and try to come up with something still true but nicer.)  Once in awhile I’ll throw away a card I’ve started—94% of the time because I hate the way my handwriting looks.  I’m not opposed to crossing mistakes out in my notes or journal, although mostly I keep things pretty raw and of the moment.  It’s pen.  I don’t always get it right the first time.  Especially in cursive.

The times I edit my writing are for essays, opinion pieces, or letters to the school board or editor, for instance, stuff that will linger or be read by many people—it’s so hard to make sure your words are conveying the right meaning without the risk of being misinterpreted, so trying to think of your entire audience is kind of big weight.  I carry around a small notebook, but I can use scraps of whatever’s handy if I hear my kids say something funny while we’re driving around or if a random idea comes to mind.  Occasionally if I have a lot on my mind when I’m waiting for someone I’ll add to the thought.  We all have ideas worthy of taking note of.  But if we don’t jot them down, they almost always dissipate.  Like a bubble we can keep track of for quite awhile until we can’t.  And then it pops and we don’t have any clues what our epiphany was about half an hour later.  I think you’d agree that simply writing a word or two on a gum wrapper will jog your memory just enough so when you’re back home and able to really pay attention to your idea for a business tweak, a parenting answer, a friend you feel to connect with, some kind of action you want to take, it will be there for you.  For me, it’s all of those as well as things I want to write about.

I keep a “scratch pad” document where I do all my musings, titles for new ideas, maybe a quote or two as a springboard.  Then I’m not online, accidentally putting something out there permanently.  And I don’t feel pressured.  I’ll write pretty freely, accepting anything that streams.  As much as I can get out.  Mornings are best for me.  And then I’ll leave for the day.  If I have a bit of time in another part of the day I’ll return and read and add and make changes.  I have several things I’m writing about at the same time.  I might do that over a couple of days.  Ideas sit there well-behaved until I can attend to them.  I nearly always give even something I feel is complete an overnight just to let it rest and to be able to proofread clearly one more time.

I guess what could make writing easier than people think is to just be real, yourself, without trying to make it into something worthy of publishing.  Not trying so hard to make it right or to copy someone else’s style or to make it acceptable.  I have no idea how to write prettily or properly.  But I do sometimes catch myself writing things in a completely different way than how I speak and it makes me laugh.  Who talks like that?  It’s just a lot easier when your voice can be heard through the written word—when friends can tell it’s from you before they even read the signature.

Mostly I think writing is enhanced by observing.  And sharing your take on what you see, your thoughts and interpretations, how what you noticed affected you.

I remember the very first time someone said anything about something that I’d written.  It was a paper about the book 1984, back in jr. high.  I’m not sure I answered the essay question the way I was supposed to, but I just couldn’t figure out a better way than to just put myself in the situation in the book and be real about what I could see my reaction being.  I talked about my preference for being an average citizen (with as few rights and privileges as they had) rather than being a leader who inflicted such harsh conditions on them and explained my reasoning.  She read it out loud to the class.  I go back to that essay moment a lot, even though I have no idea what happened to it, because it obviously spurred something in me.  It was one of the first times I remember writing honestly and openly, not knowing or even caring how it would be accepted or what kind of grade it would earn.  In fact, I was pretty sure I would fail the assignment because I didn’t address the question head-on.  But I wrote without hesitation or regard.  I guess that’s a theme I’ve chosen to hang on to whenever I write—be as tactful as possible, but be honest and forthright even if it’s a bit of a risk or makes me feel vulnerable.  So I guess if anyone ever asks again, I could tell them I just write it like I see it.  In a nice way.