The Truth Curve

You have vivid images of what you’re going to write about but when you actually sit down to do it, your mind goes blank, your fingers freeze at the keyboard, and you have a sickening feeling that you have no idea how to translate that beautiful image into words.  You feel wretched, incompetent, and hopeless so you put off the whole business until later, when you will surely have more motivation.  Sound familiar?

 

I am about to give advice on the seemingly impossible: how to write without doing any writing.  I know it sounds as crazy as telling you to compete in the Tour de France without using a bicycle.  But bear with me, please.  I assure you that I’m not joking when I tell you that I write without actually doing any writing.  And I use a very simple method.  It’s not fancy and it doesn’t require me to program a computer to do the writing for me.  Let me tell you how I avoid writing altogether.

 

Step 1. Capture Stuff.

 

First, what do I mean by capture stuff?  What stuff and how do I capture it?  Capturing stuff encompasses a lot of different things but falls into two major categories: Observation and Transcription.

 

Observation

 

Do you see that crazy little man on the subway with the comb-over? Jot that down. Note that I didn’t say write. Okay, technically jot is a synonym for “write.” But writing is so tedious and hard and well, just downright unpleasant so I avoid it at all costs.  When you jot something down, it’s irrelevant, it’s trivial, and you wouldn’t miss it if you lost it. Ok? Do you see where I’m going with this yet? When you jot it down, what do you see? Just note what you see about the man. Is his hair stringy, silvery-white? Does his hair have a greasy appearance? Is he wearing an old, tattered jacket? Does he have a mustache that’s not been groomed in weeks? Note that in your little notebook.  And when I say note I still do not mean “write.” You are not writing anything at this point (or ever for that matter). You are just making some careless observations. You don’t even need to be a good speller or use grammar appropriately. No one is looking at your notebook, not even the man with the comb-over.  Trust me.  If you lose your notebook, nothing will happen. You won’t mourn it and you can certainly get a new one.  Do not become attached to your little notebook of jottings.  The Notebook is Lost, Long Live the Notebook.

 

Wait, notebook? What notebook? Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. You need a little notebook. Mine fits in my purse and is completely inconspicuous. I use these little Moleskine ones. Anne Lamott uses index cards. Other people use cocktail napkins.  If you’re fancy shmancy, use your Palm or Blackberry.  Whatever floats your boat is fine. I just don’t recommend the Etch-a-Sketch, however. Just make sure you have this notebook with you at all times. Because you never know when a 6-foot tall transvestite paraplegic will cross your path.  (No, seriously. I’m not trying to make fun of 6-foot tall transvestite paraplegics but honest-to-God, I did see one on Christopher Street in the Village back in the eighties.  He was very tall, had a sleeveless mini-dress on, high heels, no arms and had a small purse dangling from his shoulder.  He was also alone.  I couldn’t help but stare though I tried hard to avert my eyes. My immediate question was, How in the world did he get his purse onto his shoulder if he has no arms? And what will happen if his purse falls off? How will he pick it up?)

 

In any case, if you see the 6-foot tall transvestite paraplegic, you will need to note that down.  Trust me that you need to jot everything down NOW because you will not remember this in all its glorious detail later.

 

Transcription

 

The other way to capture stuff is by transcribing.  Again, transcribing is no more writing than waitressing is cooking.  You are not going to do any cooking whatsoever, so relax.  (Yes, I know. Some people love cooking. I am even one of those people but when I write, I don’t cook, I transcribe.) You may use your notebook to transcribe or you may use a computer, but either way, you are going to be the conduit for this task and not the creator of writing. Being a creator or writer is so burdensome and carries so many responsibilities with it. People expect you to be all sorts of things and do great, wondrous writing and to say something meaningful and profound and what if you can’t live up to that?  But surely you can live up to being a typist or a transcriber, the kind of transcriber that dutifully copies text from some source.  You know how to be a typist.  A lot less is expected of a typist than of a writer, wouldn’t you agree?  You type what you’re given and if you make some mistakes, you use the spell checker. Since this is not your piece of writing and you have no attachment to it, you just do your best and you’re done.  Let the author deal with the end product, not you.  Next assignment, please!

 

So, what are you transcribing exactly? Well, you’re transcribing your thoughts, the thoughts that are filling your brain. Any thoughts? Just about. You sit down and when you are ready to transcribe, you dig into your unconscious, you ask a question or give yourself a topic very much like that handwritten memo your boss just gave you to type up and you begin.  Do not think. I repeat: Do Not Think.  Thinking will kill your abilities to transcribe.  Just type.  Do not judge, do not laugh, do not scrutinize, do not correct errors of any kind.  You do not need to do any of this because no one will see this, no one will judge you, and no one will make fun of you for misspelling the word “dog.”

 

But, I hear you saying, Where is this stuff coming from?  Look, I don’t know, and that’s my honest answer.  I think it comes from deep inside of you from the very core of your being and expresses your true nature.  Or something.  Does it matter?  Do you care which boss gave you the typing assignment?  All I know is that when I sit down to type, random things start flowing freely and I’m simply dipping into this stream and redirecting it to paper.  That’s all I do.  I have thoughts all day long: What am I going to make for dinner? What did my co-worker mean when he said I was lazy? I wonder what’s on sale at Shoprite. Hm, did I have the poppy seed stuck in my teeth all day?  But I’m not usually writing all these thoughts down. I’m not usually redirecting them to paper. But when I do sit down to write, I just redirect this stream of consciousness to paper.  The only twist I add is that I prime myself to think about the topic of my writing instead of about what’s on sale at Shoprite.  But, if my stream of consciousness happens to include Shoprite in it, I write that down dutifully.  I’m a typist who doesn’t discriminate.  Who am I to judge the Shoprite thought?  I just type what I’m given.  If anyone comes across the drivel (oops, I mean transcription) in your notebook, just look them in the eye and say, “I was just following orders.”  They will have no clue what you meant but they’ll let that one go.

 

If you would like to know more about this process, I strongly recommend that you read Natalie Goldberg’s wonderful books on writing. She has lots of useful exercises on how to come up with ideas and how to fill your notebook consistently and reliably over time.

 

Let’s review Step 1: Carry a notebook with you at all times.  Record what you see, hear, and think.  Keep filling up your notebook until it’s time for step 2.

 

Step 2.  Assembly.

 

This step is a little more work but only slightly more if you become proficient at it.  What do I mean by assembly?  You take your little notebook, cocktail napkins, and index cards and you look through them after a sufficient amount of time has passed.  How much time needs to pass? It’s up to you but it’s a good idea to let your jottings lie fallow for a bit to give them time to well… just sit there.  As you will soon see, if you send your notes by express mule cross country, that will be sufficient in most cases. What you are really doing is getting distance from your jottings and notes to make sure you don’t get too attached to them. You may even forget what you did last week. If you’re a dutiful typist, chances are that you’ve been busy with new assignments from your bosses and haven’t cared much about things you did last week.

 

Now you are ready.  You need to switch gears and become an editor for a little bit.  Imagine that you got a promotion from being a typist to an editor.  All those things you typed up for your boss are now being sent by express mule cross country to the headquarters to be edited and assembled into a piece of writing.  You are that editor waiting for this express package.  But you are a passionate editor.  You are the kind of editor who has strong emotions about things that come across your desk.  You either love something immediately or you hate it.  So, today you have finally received this package.  You open it up and lo and behold, you see some notes, neatly typed up (or an unsightly mass of cocktail napkins with glass rings on them).  You give a big sigh and begin to sort through this stuff.  They key here is to focus on what’s in front of you and ignore who typed it.  You have no attachment to this typist whatsoever.  I repeat: do not feel sympathy for the person who sent you these notes or care about how much time the person spent typing. In fact, if the typist was any good, he did his job quickly. You don’t even need to know the name of the typist or even the name of the mule, who by now is extremely exhausted and would like some sort of acknowledgement for his efforts, or at least a drink of water.  In fact, the one who’s worked the hardest so far has been the mule.

 

Ok, you take these notes and you sift through them, looking for gems.  You will ruthlessly reject things that don’t pass muster. You will reject things that are merely cute and don’t serve any purpose (I know, I know, my own editor wouldn’t cut the mule out of this piece of writing. What can I say? She’s a softy.) You will even pass on things that are good but don’t fit with the overall purpose of the piece of writing you want to assemble.  This is hard, but you know what? You can save these good notes for something else.  If they’re good but don’t work in the piece you’re focusing on now, they will find a home later.

 

The number of things you reject may be large.  I’m here to tell you that it’s ok if you pass on 99% of the stuff.  The reason gems are called gems is because they’re not so easy to come by.  There will always be more.  Remember to detach yourself from this no-name typist and focus solely on the writing in front of you.  Just because you’re rejecting 99% of the drivel doesn’t mean the typist stinks.  In fact, the typist is incredibly bright and talented and one day, she may even become a writer.

 

After you’ve picked out the gems and assembled them, go over this piece of writing and do some editing finally.  Add a word here, remove a comma there, a nip, a tuck, and you’re done.  How do you do this exactly?  I won’t go into how to do this here.  There are many good books out there that discuss structure, plot, character, etc.  If your problem is mechanics, by all means, consult a book that will help you with this aspect.

 

Let’s review Step 2: Gather your notes, pick out worthwhile things, and assemble them into a coherent whole.

 

Step 3.  Repeat Step 2 Until Satisfied.

 

After you, the editor, have assembled this piece into a coherent whole, it’s time to send it back by express mule.  (I know, this business model is extremely inefficient but these mules, they need work too you know.)  Some time passes and you receive a new package.  It is no longer a set of random notes, but rather, a coherent piece of writing.  At this point, you may decide that it needs further work.  Something may be nagging at you.  Or, you may be pleased and happy with it.  You may choose to show it to someone to get some feedback.  You may decide to disassemble it and reassemble it in a different way.  That’s all up to you.  It all depends on how nit-picky the editor was the first time around and the amount of time that has passed.  Sometimes, distance gives us the best perspective.

 

Let’s review Step 3: Revise until happy.

 

Now you are done and you didn’t even write a single word. Congratulations!

 

(Pause.)

 

I said, CONGRATULATIONS! You can go home now. Scoot. Bye-bye.

 

Oh, you’re still there with a skeptical look on your face. I know what that look means. Isn’t what I describe just a matter of semantics? Aren’t I just splitting hairs on the meaning of “writing?”  Aren’t observing, transcribing, and revising called “writing?”  I knew it wouldn’t be easy to fool you.  Here’s the thing:  Semantics makes all the difference in the world, especially for something as gut-wrenching and emotionally-laden as writing.  Being a writer means baring your soul, leaving you naked and unprotected from scorn, ridicule, and humiliation.  Or worse: indifference.  If you write something and someone doesn’t like it, it means you’re a big, fat excuse for a writer, so pathetic that even the mule can do better.  Your soul is crushed, your ego bruised, your hopes smashed.  The minute I even begin to think about writing, I become paralyzed.  When I become paralyzed, I don’t write a single word, further underscoring just how unworthy I am of being a writer.  If I think I’m a typist doing some transcribing, it flows easily and naturally.  That is why I recommend shifting your perception about what it is that you’re doing.  It is all about perception.

 

So, if you want to become a writer, stop thinking like a writer and start thinking like a typist.  Got it?  Now go type!

Tags: Writing //