Writing Down the Bones
Freeing the Writer Within
Natalie Goldberg, 1986, 2005, 2016
Natalie Goldberg, 1986, 2005, 2016
5/29/2021
Natalie Goldberg teaches people how to write in Writing Down the Bones. I figured if I summarized her book, I’d be writing more often and learning to write. For each of her chapters, titles in bold, I dedicate one sentence. No more, no less.
As a writer, you must choose your tools carefully: all you need is your mind (a fresh, beginner’s mind every time of course) and pen and paper, the cheaper the better because you don’t want to take yourself too seriously. Once you’ve found your tools, force yourself to sit down for a set period and give the paper your unencumbered first thoughts, the “color coleslaw of your consciousness.” But it’s hard to force yourself to take the first step so you should approach writing as a practice, just like you’d approach running: you don’t wait until you’re inspired to run, you just run. Following such a routine will allow you to “sift through your consciousness” or “rake your mind” for good ideas in a process Goldberg likens to composting. If your writing blooms from this compost, you conquer the fears inside you and achieve a sense of artistic stability and security. Another way to overcome resistance[1] is to prepare a list of topics for writing practice as this helps you start the composting process even before you sit down and primes you to dive in immediately, describing the light passing through a window, your most frightening experience, or the details of your average morning.
Don’t fight the tofu—a fruitless metaphorical fight against your resistant ego—and instead find nudges that work for you: set up a writing date, teach a writing class, set a writing time, or arrange for writing rewards. If you're having trouble with the editor--that is, yourself--and they keep interrupting you, let them say what they have to say in a special spiel, get it over with, and get back to writing. Reiterating the lesson about first thoughts, do not hesitate to write about whatever's in front of you which, for Goldberg, was a memorable encounter with students in Elkton, Minnesota. Creativity is like a water table available for anyone to tap into with the right effort and enough practice. And let's not get too attached to our work because we are not our poems and each piece only captures a fleeting moment which we were awake enough to write about. Also, let your mind wander and draw connections between things so that you laugh at rather than dissect the logic in absurd statements like "man eats car." And writing is not a McDonald’s hamburger in the sense that you can’t pre-order ideas: if you come up with ideas in the shower or while jogging, when you sit down to write, don’t force them to come out exactly as you first thought of them.
Give your obsessions space, write about them, and move on. You don’t have to be rigid about original detail because detail transplants give your writing truthfulness although they’re not strictly true. It is the power of detail that we carry and convey that allows us to make history as writers. Think of writing like baking a cake: your life’s details are the ingredients that require the heat and energy of your heart, the oven, to transform into a worthy essay, the cake. Living twice through every occasion is the writer’s MO; the second time being when they write about the first. Writers have good figures because they’re always working out, engaging their pen and paper. Reading, listening, and writing work in tandem so listen attentively. By don’t marry the fly, Goldberg means don’t get distracted and self-absorbed, stay focused, and keep it easy for the reader to follow your thoughts. And because our normal lives and our writing lives are two separate entities, it is best if we don’t use writing to get love and seek instead to fulfill our emotional needs separately. “What are your deep dreams?” Goldberg asks, prompting us to write down the “wishes at the periphery of our thinking." By observing the world without using standard English syntax, we release energy and are able to see the world afresh and from a new angle. Emphasizing the point on writing your immediate thoughts unhindered, Goldberg recalls a college event where students hosted Russel Edson while nervously sipping wine.
Don't tell readers what feelings your writing will inspire or what topics it will cover, but show them, and if you do tell them, don't be too hard on yourself: note it and move on, perhaps erase it later. Be specific about the names of things around you, not just the flower in the window but the geranium, to penetrate more deeply into the present and bring readers to the scene by the window. Concentrate not by blocking out the world, but by allowing it to exist and sharing the bigger picture. The ordinary to some might be extraordinary to others so give detail its due space as nothing is undetailable. Talk is the exercise ground for writing so don’t worry about gossip and tell stories with amazement so you can figure out what’s worth writing about.
Also, kill the idea of the lone, suffering artist because writing is a communal act and you must learn from other writers. Forget the logic of one plus one equals two and let it instead equal a Mercedes Benz because you want an unhindered imagination. Be attentive to your surroundings like an animal. Make statements and answer questions so that even if you’re not sure of something, you express it as though you do. The more you are awake to all aspects of language (like the verb, the action of a sentence), the more vibrant your writing will be. Also, try writing in restaurants because the noise there makes it so that instead of reducing stimulation, the busy atmosphere keeps your senses occupied while the deeper, quieter part of you that creates and concentrates is free to do so. Don’t become lost in interior decoration because writing studios can become so exquisite that we are not able to write in them and let out our imperfections. If you want to write about a big and sensitive topic such as eroticism, approach it slowly and indirectly. Be content with and learn to write about the ordinary, be a tourist in your own town. There is no perfect atmosphere so write anyplace and feel free because of it. Push yourself and go further than you think you can because that’s when strong stuff comes out. To be alone and begin writing from our pain or from our aloneness eventually engenders compassion for our small and groping lives. Don’t get sidetracked by the small voice of doubt in your head because it leads to no place but pain, torture, and negativity. Set rewards for writing like treating yourself to a little sweet.
Don’t rest on your success when you write something good because every moment is a new moment and you should keep writing. If you ask yourself “why do I write?,” realize that writing is deeper than therapy because you write out your pain and despite it, and realize that your reasons will change over time. When Goldberg would write with her friend every Monday, she would feel connected with the world. And telling the reader more about these Mondays, she explains that she writes because she loves the world.
Set up a spontaneous writing booth at a bazaar or carnival and write freely on cards or shirts for people, and let go as you watch them walk away with what you wrote. A sensation of space is what you give the reader if you practice and write Haiku, but the lesson here is to read a lot of writing in the form that you want to write so you too can learn how to write that way. Give yourself a large field to wander in so that you can go beyond your ordinary, so that you can lose control and learn that the world is not the way you think it is, that it isn’t solid, structured, and forever.
Don’t succumb blindly to the goody two-shoes nature that compels you to sit down and write after setting a routine even when you’re not feeling it. Let no hindrances or commitments hold you back because everyone has bad days and we all know where the best-laid plans end up. If you’re stuck and don’t know what to write about, just write about a meal you love. If that doesn’t work, use loneliness to get yourself to crave expression and communication. Better yet, do something you don’t normally do like putting on blue lipstick or have a cigarette hanging out your mouth. And make sure you’re going home often, not so you can stay there or write boastfully about your heritage, but so you can reconnect with your roots and avoid avoiding anything that makes you you. For more ideas, get a story circle together where people talk about what makes them happy, what they love, or just stories they like telling. You can also set up writing marathons where you bring people together and commit to writing a certain number of minutes or hours and where each person takes some alone time afterward to reflect.
You won’t always write Shakespearean pieces, but when it’s a good piece, you should claim your writing. Just trust yourself because you might like writing that other people don’t and anyway you have the compost method to test writing quality. Along with the compost method, you can employ the samurai method which means you judge your work critically and cut out the bad stuff that just isn’t working. You can fascinate yourself with your own mundane life if you reread what you have written after a few months away from a piece and then rewrite where needed using the same methods above. Write honestly like the zen master who on his death bed utters “I don’t want to die,” honest and unhindered.
Goldberg's epilogue features profound words about attachment and success: “The biggest struggle was not with the actual writing, but working out the fear of success, the fear of failure, and finally burning through to just pure activity.“
__________
[1] see the war of art for a detailed exposition into the realities of resistance when it comes to any kind of creative work.