Introspective Writing
Via Colene, I found this quote on Former Pawn’s site about introspection and writing. It comes from Canadian author and teacher Wayson Choy:
“I tell my students,” says Choy, reverting to teacher mode, “don’t write what you know, but write about what resides in you. And you won’t know that until you become introspective.” Many people want to avoid introspection, he says, because it means confronting demons and pain as well as the chain of joys and good cheer that we bring up from that “bottom drawer” when we reminisce about the past. “A writer can’t just deal with the positive because life is lived totally and so the writers I trust most are those who say here is everything, let me retell what I have discovered resides there.”
Now, Mr. Choy has been teaching writing for nearly 40 years, so presumably he’s forgotten more about the subject than I know. Still, this seems like deeply stupid advice, and is the exact opposite thing I would tell new writers.
I should preface the following polemic by saying that I think it applies to all writing, from poetry to weblogs to essays. This only applies, however, to writing intended for public consumption.
Speaking as a former new writer myself, we tend to already be overly introspective. Why are we inclined to write? Generally, because we’ve got some deep emotional motivation (angst, exhibitionism, desire for fame, you name it). Generally, new writers spend far too much time within themselves, anaylzing and reanalyzing their lives and art.
It’s all well and good that Choy talks about “confronting demons” but, frankly, young writers have few demons to confront. And, for the most part, they’re the same demons everybody else has. As such, finding stories within yourself is often a limiting exercise. Now, if a young writer has had some unusual experiences, and earned a few rare demons, I’ll suffer some solipsism to read that. Yes, I’m talking to you, Evelyn Lau.
Encouraging introspection advocates a “tell, don’t show” model of writing. “Show, don’t tell” is, in my estimation, the number one rule of writing. As Mark Twain put it, “don’t say the old lady screamed…bring her on and let her scream.” In this context, don’t say “I went out walking and felt sad”, say “I went out walking and saw a crazy lady” and let your description of her demonstrate your sadness. There are few ways of writing the former, but infinite ways of writing the latter.
In a kind of Buddhist way, the young writer should practice a total and complete denial of self. That’s the best, fastest way to get better at the craft of writing. There will be plenty of time later on to explore your emotions on the page. For now, learn how to describe and interpret things, how to synthesize ideas, how to render the world around you in a comprehensible way.
All of my favourite writers, from Hemingway to Stephen King to Nicholson Baker, are light on the brooding self-analysis. They tell a compelling story in an original fashion and make the details sing. When they do pause for a little introspection (see, for example, King’s excellent On Writing), it makes their prose all the more powerful.
Like sculpture, writing is a craft before it’s an art. Getting introspective doesn’t help a carpenter make cabinets, and it won’t help you write compelling prose.
