I love the idea of writing, but loathe the act of writing. If you’ve ever attempted to write anything at all - an email, a 3000-word essay on the life and ministry of Jesus, some kind words on a birthday card, or a text to a cute boy, heck even something as unimportant as an Instagram caption - then you know what I mean.
What I mean is that I love reading about other writer’s processes. How Hemingway wrote in the morning in a chummy Parisian apartment1, how Zadie Smith would write between 4 am and 6 am before getting her children ready for school2, or the infamous story of Kerouac all hopped up on pills and freehanding the original Scroll for On the Road in a fury. Moving stuff.
I love reading and learning about others doing the thing I so long to do - write words that move. Words that make one feel larger in mind, soul, and spirit. But this takes practice, it takes boldness, and discipline to work at the craft.
Instead, I think that if I can find the best method or instruction or “tip” then I’ll want to sit my butt in a chair long enough to pull words from my brain onto this digital white screen that perpetually mocks me.
Ideas only matter if they are followed by action. You could die with the most brilliant innovations, moving lines of poetry or prose in your skull and it wouldn’t matter if you never tried to do anything about it.
One of my favourite poems is How to be a Poet by the master wordsmith Wendell Berry.3 It is honest and direct. There is no fluff to it. Berry argues that the method to the madness is discipline, focus, and simply to:
Make a place to sit down.
Sit down. Be quiet.
I have a deep desire to write a book one day. About what I’m not sure yet (Paul’s letter of Galatians or his subtle jest in 1 Thess 4 have been rocking my imagination for about a year now). It is Carl Jung that gets credited with saying:
“Life really does begin at forty. Up until then, you are just doing research.”
If that’s true, I’ve got 14 more years of research and refinement. So these 300 or so words are my attempt at accepting Berry’s challenge. The invitation to face the blaring blank page and fill it with thoughts and words. Some sentences will be rubbish and some not, but I’m tired of not acting.
Can I ask you, friend, what deep creative desire you have? Is it writing a song, learning to ollie, taking a dance class or cook? Well, what’s stopping you? Choose today to punch fear in the face and do it!
Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast, 1964.
Sarah Stodola, Process: The Writing Lives of Great Authors, 2015.
Wendell Berry, The Peace of Wild Things and other poems, 2018.
i've never been cared about poetry more in my life than after reading that. keen for whats to come.
An awesome read. Can’t wait for more