Freeing the Writer Within

Recently I came across some rather ancient cassettes about creative writing that I'd bought way back in the late 1980s and I've begun to use them with my classes. The one I've been using this week is Natalie Goldberg's Freeing the Writer Within, which is a recording of a workshop she led back in 1988 based on principles about timed writing which she explained in her legendary book, Writing Down the Bones.

I had read Writing Down the Bones many years ago and it was one of the books that influenced me the most when I began to write. Basically, it's about how to let your mind have free reign when you're writing, so that what emerges is powerful, authentic and real. I find her approach refreshing compared with lots of creative writing advice, which can become formulaic.

If you haven't read Writing Down the Bones, do give it a try. And if you come across the CD version of Freeing the Writer Within, do listen to that too. There's nothing like hearing someone's voice when you have only read their words on the page. And another thing that my students really enjoyed was being able to join in the timed writing exercise, read out their own work and discuss it, then listen to what the workshop students in America had written. It was very interesting to compare our responses to the pieces of writing with theirs, and to hear the advice that Natalie gave.

The Pink Wafer Effect

When you're growing a plant or a flower, you can get it off to a good start with a well-dug bed of top quality soil; you can keep away bugs; you can encourage it to flourish by giving it plenty of water and regular doses of Miracle Gro; but apart from 'forcing' it to mature earlier with a bit of hothousing, you can't actually make it grow.

I know the Prince of Wales is meant to encourage his plants to grow by talking to them, but as far as I know, he doesn't actually say, 'Come on, you little blighters, grow, or else!'

Plants have their own natural growing pattern. You can provide them with optimum conditions, love, care and conversation, perhaps even a little Reiki, but sitting agonizing over them, harrassing them, bullying them, is not going to make them grow the slightest bit faster.

Creativity's a bit like that. Last night, in my class, we were discussing how the writers and co-creators of the Life on Mars TV series came up with the idea for the show and went about writing it. There is a very interesting section in The Official Companion in which the four writers, Matthew Graham, Ashley Pharoah, Tony Jordan, and Chris Chibnall discuss the process of bringing the series to fruition.

One of the things that amazed the students was the fact that the three co-creators went off for a weekend in Blackpool to come up with ideas for television series. OK, so they did hire a small conference room and spend time in it bandying about ideas. But they also got out and about on the Pleasure Beach and spent lots of time playing.

To my adult learners, who in their day jobs are confined to an office from nine to five (or longer) five days a week, it was unthinkable that people who have a limited time together to come up with ideas for a deadline would waste time on playing.

So many beginning writers are used to squeezing their creativity into the odd hour or two that they manage to create for themselves among the obligations of job, family, household chores, tax returns, you name it. You mean some people actually go off and have fun!

I remember that in the American TV series, Thirtysomething, the two ad men, Michael and Elliot, worked in an agency which had basketball nets so they could relax their minds by playing, and thus give themselves space to come up with creative ideas.

One of my students works for an advertising agency, and confirmed that even on our side of the Pond, you do find that sort of thing in creative working environments. One of the companies he worked for even had Playstations in their offices.

To someone who works in local government or education or business, having time to 'waste' like that is just unthinkable. There are targets to be met, schedules to adhere to, timesheets to fill in - in some firms, every minute has to be logged and accounted for.

Of course, even creative people have to meet deadlines and fit in with other people's agendas. But giving your employees, giving yourself, time and space to play, to freewheel, is not time wasted. It's during that 'down time', when you're relaxed, that the 'aha' moments come.

So what are we writers to do? Install a basketball net in our front room so we can have a quick slam dunk? I don't think it would work for me. Ball games were never my strength and I can't say I ever found them relaxing, even when I was young.

But yesterday, while I was waiting for the kettle to boil, I did put on a CD and practise some of the belly dancing moves I'd been learning in my Arabic dance class. It must have made my brain more flexible as well as my waist, for once I went back upstairs to the computer to carry on with my web design work, I managed to solve with ease a Dreamweaver problem that I'd been struggling with all week.

Other times, if I can't think what to write, I'll sit and play the piano for a while. My friend who writes science books has a glass of wine and strums on his guitar. Another has candle-lit baths when she just can't find any inspiration for her romantic novels. And many writers go for a gentle walk when they find themselves at an impasse.

I don't think it really matters what you do. It can be anything you find relaxing, just as long as it gives you some breathing space and takes away from you the pressure to create, just for a few minutes.

It's like trying to remember something that you know when you just can't think of it, somebody's name perhaps. If you keep on and on trying to remember it, you'll stay stuck. But if you stop trying to force yourself to remember, and get on with something else, the missing information will suddenly pop into your head when you least expect it.

There's a telling example of this in episode 1 of the first series of Life on Mars. The detectives are trying to get an elderly lady to remember why she'd come into the station to make a complaint. The more Sam Tyler (with his modern, pressurized policing methods) tries to coerce the woman into remembering, the more flustered and useless she becomes. Then eventually Gene Hunt chips in with 'Pink wafers! I love pink wafers, don't you?'

Immediately the old lady relaxes, and after a genial chat and a few extra biscuits, she is able to produce the information the cops are after, vital information which leads them to the murderer. It's a priceless scene, very funny, but also psychologically true.

So if you're struggling with your writing and the Muse appears to have left you, don't beat yourself up about it. Go and practise your belly dancing, play an instrument, talk about pink wafers. Give yourself the space to play and before you know it, you'll soon be back in the creative flow.

The Box of Delights or 'All the World's a Prompt'

'What on earth shall I write about today?' is a question that's on the lips of every writer at one time or another. For lots of us, it isn't the actual writing that's the problem. Once we know what we're going to write about, we're off. It's finding something to write about in the first place.

That's why I created my secret weapon that I use for my class and my workshops - the Box of Delights.

My Box of Delights is a brown suede covered box, 18cm deep, with an oval lid, roughly 26cm by 19cm. It's the sort of box that would be used for a very large and very expensive box of chocolates.

To make mine extra special, I tie it up with a really swish shocking pink ribbon and finish it off with a big bow, so that it looks like a very classy gift - which is what it is really. For every time I take it out and use it with a group, I'm giving those writers the gift of imagination.

As with any present, anticipation is half the fun, so I wait as long as possible before I unwrap the box and reveal its contents.

I take out the box, place it on the table and tell the group I've brought them something special. Of course, everyone is intrigued and wants to know what's in it, but they don't get to find out straight away. First, I pass round the unopened box and let people feel how heavy it is, shake it, stroke the suede.

Then when everybody has had a chance to touch it, I ask for a volunteer to unwrap the ribbon, and another to take off the lid. By this time, everyone is really keen to know what's inside.

Next someone takes out the items one by one, tells the group what they are, and passes them round for everyone to see and handle. The handling bit is important. I find that people often react differently to objects if they can actually take them in their hands and hold them.

So what sort of thing does the Box of Delight contain? The great thing is that it can be different every time. Here's what's in it today:

* a peacock feather
* a relaxation tape
* key ring with an enamel camel
* a cross stitch bookmark decorated with flowers
* a red felt heart (Christmas tree decoration)
* a postcard with a picture of a young woman and the caption 'Ideas Above Our Station'
* a flyer for a mobile DIY service
* a wooden box with a wriggling toy insect inside
* an orange retractable tape measure (inch tape)
* a string of gold beads
* a little BBC book called 'Finish This...End of Story'
* a miniature framed picture
* a stopwatch
* a wooden turtle ornament
* a tiny medal on a ribbon
* a brochure for the Scotland Street School museum in Glasgow
* the Collins Gem book of Musical Instruments
* a red glass slipper Christmas tree decoration
* a sachet of Jasmine flavoured green tea
* a pottery brighly-painted mask (made by my son at primary school)
* a tub of tuning slide grease for trombones
* a padlock
* a tape measure
* a card advertising Salsa Fusion classes
* a golf ball
* a tiny toy army tank
* a ring pouch containing a guardian angel lapel pin
* a train timetable (Huddersfield-Wakefield-London)
* a miniature toy gun
* a photograph of a couple dancing the tango in a cobbled street
* a fridge magnet of an Irish gypsy caravan
* a fighter plane key ring
* a tiny treasure chest with 'Keep Out' written on the top

Once the contents have been revealed, each person chooses one or more items to write about there and then for an agreed time, perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes. Then everybody reads out loud what they've written.

So where did I find all this stuff? Mostly, I just used items I had lying around the house. My 13-year old son has outgrown his toys, so I raided his drawer for some of the key rings and little novelties. Others were things that came through the door, like the DIY flyer, or odds and ends I had on my fridge door or in my handbag. It didn't cost me a penny.

The great thing about using the Box of Delights is that everybody responds to it differently. People don't always choose the things you think they will go for, like the pretty peacock feather or the glass slipper. They sometimes go for the most unlikely items.

The first time I used the Box, I was amazed that my students' choices included the train timetable, the trombone slide grease, and the green tea bag! But they managed to write some very entertaining stories as a result.

The Box of Delights proved really popular with my class. The ritual of opening the beautiful ribbon-tied box and unwrapping the contents turned a simple writing exercise into a special occasion. Some class members discussed the experience in their writing diaries or when they were reviewing their progress as writers, and said how much they'd enjoyed it.

It's something that you can easily make for yourself, using a brightly coloured hat box or even an old shoe box decorated with coloured card and stickers - making it can be part of the fun.

Or if you don't want to collect objects, you could compile a list instead. One of my students said she would prefer to make a list for her own use, as she felt she would have quite a limited range of things to choose from in her own home.

You and a fellow writer could even make up a box or a list and swap with each other, which would provide you with the element of surprise and open up your imaginative horizons.

Let me know if you decide to make your own Box of Delights and how you get on with it. Or tell me about any interesting objects you or your students have written about.

Meanwhile, whether you're writing or not, I hope your day brings you some lovely surprises.

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.