It's OK to write rubbish

One of the very first things I did with my class was to write on the board: 'It's OK to write rubbish in this class', and get them to chant it like primary school kids. There were several bemused faces and one student actually asked me if I'd been drinking, but it did the trick.

They all remembered it, and have quoted it back to me at regular intervals when they've been re-assessing their progress as writers: 'I'm getting better at learning to write rubbish, but I can't manage to do it all the time!'

It may sound odd, but I know what they mean and they're starting to understand it too.

So what is writing rubbish, and why is it so important to be able to do it?

I'm not advocating bad writing. That goes without saying! No writer in their right mind would want their finished product to be total rubbish. It's what happens along the way that I'm talking about. Especially that first, terrifying moment when you're faced with a blank page.

You want to fill your page with something spectacularly good - something that people will find compelling, fascinating, moving. Something that reflects who you are. Something that will last for posterity.

And that's the trouble.

If you sit down at the computer or with a sheet of paper and tell yourself that you've got to achieve all that, you'll be lucky if you can scrape together a sentence. And even if you do, you'll spend so much of your time pressing the delete key, applying Tippex, drawing angry lines through your handwriting, you'll be lucky to make it to sentence number two.

No one can write under that sort of pressure. To write well, you've got to be relaxed. Above all you've got to be free - free to let your imagination run riot, free to experiment, free to take risks.
You've got to be free to be you, and not be afraid to let other people see you for who you are. And that's just as scary as standing stark naked in an Oxford Street shop window.

It's a risky business. It takes guts. But it's far more exciting than bungee-jumping in the Grand Canyon.

We all of us have our own Nasty Little Critic who sits on our shoulder and shouts into our ear, 'Call yourself a writer! Surely you're not going to let anybody read that trash! Whatever will people think of you!'

Nasty Little Critic is has a very loud, irritating voice. In fact, his voice is so loud and irritating that you have to stop what you're doing, listen to him, and do what he tells you, even if you're in full flow.

The trouble is, he's always got an opinion and he's always sure he's right. He's very persuasive. He can make you doubt yourself. He can make you feel really small. He can make you feel as if this writing business is just too big for you, so you might just as well not bother.

He can bring your writing to a full stop before it's even got started.

So who is this Nasty Little Critic then? He's your left brain. The part of your brain that analyses, tears things apart, assesses. There are times when he can be a useful little devil. In fact, he's just what you need when it comes to editing your work.

But when you're writing your first draft, trying to get everything out of your head and your heart and onto paper, he's the last person you want hanging over you.

Best case scenario: it takes you hours to write half a page and in the process you totally lose your sense of flow.

Worst case scenario: total paralysis... a blank page... the end of a promising writing career.

But, fortunately, you have someone else on your other shoulder. She's spontaneous, imaginative, daring. Nothing's too hard for her, nothing too ambitious. Once she gets going, there's no stopping her. She's full of fun and the joy of creation.

She's called Inspiration. She's your Muse, and she comes from your right brain.

As long as you have her, there's nothing you can't do. You will amaze yourself. You'll find yourself saying, 'I don't know where that came from.' You'll amaze your readers.

Inspiration and the Nasty Little Critic make a really good team. In an ideal world, Inspiration gets everything moving and helps you pour it all out onto the page. She gets you started. She gives you something you can work with.

Then when you've finished your first draft, you can give the Nasty Little Critic a call and he'll have some very good suggestions to make your writing better. He'll get rid of all those nasty little glitches like typos and ambiguous sentences and faulty punctuation. He'll tell you that it wasn't really a good idea to use the word 'nice' three times in a row. He'll even know when to write its and when to write it's.

It's a good job somebody does.

Your Nasty Little Critic isn't so bad. At the right time, he can be a useful little chap, indispensible even. You'll be very grateful for him. He'll make your writer superb.

The trouble is that Nasty Little Critic and Inspiration can't stand each other. They can't bear to be in the same room. They fratch like a couple of pit bull terriers.

If you're trying to write a new piece and Nasty Little Critic is hanging around, putting in his two pennyworth every two minutes, you can bet your last dollar that Inspiration will pack up her laptop and walk right out the door.

The trick is to keep them apart. Let Inspiration have her say first. Give her plenty of time and space. Cosset her with cups of tea, chocolate biscuits, soothing music, even the odd glass of wine.

Then when she's told you she's finished, that's the time you can bring in the other guy. Let him have a good look at what you've got down. Several good looks. Call him back a couple of months later when Inspiration is but a distant memory. He'll roll up his sleeves and give you an honest, objective, workmanlike opinion.

That's what my students are learning to do. Write first, edit later. And later. And later. Several drafts on, there it is - a beautiful piece of work of work, smooth as polished mahogany! Writing they can be proud of.

At that point, Inspiration and Nasty Little Critic are suddenly the best of friends. They can look each other in the eye, shake hands, and say with a smile, 'We did that! Both of us!'

Then they'll go off on their separate ways for a while.

That's why I tell my class it's OK to write rubbish. Let it all pour out, no matter how bad it is. To begin with...

And that's why I'm glad that they do.