Wednesday, 1 December 2010

Write Rite Right

I love the ritual of writing.  I love making a cup of tea, coming upstairs, turning on my lap top, gazing out of the window (icicles hanging from the sash this morning) while it boots up. I love the clutter on my desk: the photos, the postcards, the skateboarding pen holder my son made me when he was at primary school.  It's my home; it's where I live and come to life.  I love the sound my laptop makes -- I suppose it is some kind of cooling fan, whirring, but to me it sounds like a continuous exhalation, which is more or less what writing is.  I love the miracle of opening the document and finding (hopefully) that my novel is still there.  I love the gradual immersion into what I have written, the way the tendrils of an unfinished paragraph or scene wrap themselves around me.  I love the intensity of the first new words each day, that continual freshness.

All these rituals mean so much because they are part of what creates my comfort zone, but almost more important to me is the way that writing ritualises life itself.  There are countless theories about the number of basic plots which exist - is its seven, is it thirty - a debate which perhaps obscures the significance of the fundamental impulse to tell a story.  With our narratives, written down or told to friends, or texted, or tweeted, we try to make sense of what has happened to us, to celebrate, to analyse, to forewarn.  A story is the best vehicle we have for exchanging experiences.  It teaches us empathy, helps us to identify with other people and provides insight and understanding.  It humanises us and reminds us that others around us are human too.

Writing isn't just to do with inspiration, it's about aspiration as well: the continual quest for the perfect phrase and the endless revisions needed to achieve it.  In all my years of teaching, I've never seen anyone right at less than their best.  I've seen them improve on their best, but I've never seen them settle for less.  Writers want to get it right, no matter what the cost.  The creative act is a way of connecting with what is good in yourself -- keep writing.

SMALL PRESS ALERT

Founded in 1968 by Peter Jay and now based in Greenwich, south-east London, Anvil Press is England’s longest-standing independent poetry publisher.
Contact -  http://www.anvilpresspoetry.com/contact.asp 

Arc Publications 

Poetry publishers for more than forty years...

The Association for Scottish Literary Studies 

An educational charity that aims to promote the study, teaching and writing of Scottish literature. Publications inlude New Writing Scotland, an annual anthology of drama, poetry, short fiction and creative prose.

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