CREATIVE DRIVE

The newsletter for animals who like people

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NUMBER 38

The Theme: Your Writing Is Terrible

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Today's article begins with a message of admiration for your incredible uniqueness, bright talents and kindness. You really are beautiful, and you should recognize that. The people who know you best certainly say what a great person you are.

As for your writing, though, it could be better. There's no other way to put it. So, either you're lazy or you fail to recognize the fact. Poor writing isn't for me, though. It isn't my style, nor should it be yours. If a single sentence doesn't mean the same thing to any reader, it will diminish your cause. Writing that isn't your best can make you look foolish.

If you really wanted to write something, would you settle for substandard work? Would you ignore the need to prepare; to train yourself in advance of an opportunity to demonstrate the ability to convey ideas? Is it too difficult? Is writing so hard to master that you just want to give up?

If you're reluctant to open and explore the vast treasury of concepts in your mind, your thinking is based on fear. You protect yourself against challenges despite the miraculous rewards they bestow. ?

Each of us can recall the times in life when we thought we were ready for the next step. We believed the time was right, or at least we assumed it to be so. We assumed it because we believed it, but we believed it simply because we thought it. So, the assumption of readiness was a treat we gave to ourselves. Actually, it was theft because our acquiescence to mediocrity stemmed from a single, pleasurable thought: "I'm ready."

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Thought: The impulse

Belief: Egoistic acceptance of thought

Assumption: Failure to question belief

Yes, It Is

Bluntly speaking, your writing is pathetic. It's careless, ill-conceived, structurally weak and full of errors. This isn't to say that you are less than admirable. There's a distinction between you–the thinking, functioning person–and the creative work you produce. You might be the nicest, most charming person on the block, but you mash words and commas together like slop for the hogs.? ??

The world overflows with people who claim to have literary skills but obviously don't. They lack sufficient understanding of structure, usage, syntax, grammar, punctuation and nuance. They fail to notice the distinctions between their regional forms and those of the target audiences.

The essence of writing is the desire to show others what it's like to be you. Think about it: You can cross the globe in a plane, but you can't step into another person's skin. However, that's exactly what you'll need to do. It's the miracle for which a great writer hopes.

How We're Taught

Compromise is often the name of the game when it comes to teaching. The efficiency of impersonal, non-individualized education is achieved with systems of rules but not of experience or counsel. Return to the old high school and hand your assigned short story–a vignette–to your writing teacher. Would you expect that teacher to ask, "What was in your mind or memory when you composed this line?" If your work was one of thirty stories, it wouldn't happen. If the story had a few too many commas or some quotation marks that were used incorrectly, the red ink on your graded paper wouldn't be explained. The teacher wouldn't ask you, "What is the highest goal for a young writer?" There wouldn't be enough time, and classroom instruction might simply have been the teacher's job.

The closest thing to counsel in regard to writing was my English teacher's admonition to the class: "Don't love your writing," he'd say. He meant, of course, that we shouldn't blindly accept a draft as the finished product.

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A Lifetime of Habits

Doing is the best form of learning. What is learning, though, and where is it done? "In school," you'll say. "We learn in school." However, I must argue against that assertion. We go to school to learn how to learn; to acquire an awareness of what learning is and how it benefits the mind. If you insist that school is where you learn, it's clear that you didn't already know how to learn.

My mother was an expert draftsman, a brilliant sketch artist, a painter, a sculptor and a weaver. She co-designed our new house in association with a renowned architect, and together they pioneered a midcentury style she called Spanish Modern. She could write, and she sang with a heart-melting lilt. So, the day she felt I was ready–and it must've been before my third birthday–off we went to the art-supply store. "Today we're going to learn about fingerpainting!" she said with a smile. "Oh," I said. "Mom, what's that?" "It's fun," she said. "You'll have lots of colors to mix in a gooey gel, and you can put those colors all over a big sheet of paper. Come on, let's go!"

It was fun. I made one messy painting after another, and she displayed them on an easel for everyone to see.

What did Mom teach me? It was trial and error rolled into a burrito of art appreciation. It was something to attempt, do and even struggle with. It was the opportunity to see and perceive, correct and repeat, and refine. I learned to make something that could be shared. A couple of years later, my oldest sister taught me how to tie my shoes. A couple of days before the start of first grade, another sister taught me how to write my name. "If you don't know how to read and write when you start first grade, your teacher will hit you with a ruler." Wow. One brother made a battery-powered lamp for me, and later we made a go-kart with some lumber and chicken wire. Another brother taught me to play the guitar, and yet another let me play his drums. They all played the piano too, so I heard that stuff constantly. It was a virtual university, and I was just a kid. I'll save my remarks about school for a therapy session.

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Rebirth as a Creative Power

I thought I'd grow up to be a painter and poet, and I spent hours on those activities. However, I was naturally musical and soon moved in that direction. Along with the tips and lessons from my parents and siblings, I developed skills through stubborn independence. The learning continues today. For example, I've dramatically modified my approach to music, starting with a rebuilt guitar technique and then digital-orchestral arranging and back again. I've even removed the wall between major and minor modalities so that . . . so that, well, happy music can be less obnoxious. (Admit it: Sad music is better.)

This is what learning is for me. It's the process of questioning and resolution through persistent effort. I learned how to learn from my family.

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What Was Missing

Your writing instructor couldn't do that for you. It wasn't possible to single you out and correct the weaknesses in your work. That was your task, anyway. If your writing merited special praise, it was kept private. I had this experience when I returned to college after a few years away. I wrote a series of papers for a theater-arts class, but they weren't returned. Eventually, each of the two class instructors gave me a private meeting. One said, "We keep your papers as examples to show students in other classes." The other said, "You'd be crazy not to go out and write professionally." I hadn't thought of it previously, but I always tried to make my writing the best it could be.

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You Can Be Everything

I started today's talk with a message for you. It was a love poem of sorts. Then I came out with the criticism of your awful writing. Again, it was in reference to what you produce. I meant your sentences, paragraphs and conclusions but not your desire or your ideas. The desire to write is beautiful and inspiring, but your blind acceptance of contemporary norms is disappointing.

The time is right to become the ultimate version of You the Writer. After all, you can write more effectively than AI technology ever could . . . unless it stole from you. What will it take to reach such a height? Toughness is what it will take. You'll have to recognize that your life is the teacher; that Creation is your influence. The experience of your past may provide subject matter, and it may inform your approach even in professional writing, but from this point forward the experience of your mission to achieve greatness will matter most.

A QUICK EXERCISE

The worst writing is done by the person who doesn't care. Even if you want to make the point that you're tired and jaded, you'll miss the mark if you don't bother to write well. So, let's repair the following paragraph, which is a piece of crap. Look for errors in punctuation, spelling, grammar and structure.

"Its all I can do, to make you be satisfied with your self, she said". It take's all my energy and my nerve and brain power , to keep on pushing you." He didn't listen though, he just kept whittling away on his pencil and eying the tip for a perfect point; "thats interesting, he said, How would you no Im the won to be pushed? All ready, I run a compeny and own too boats. It could be you that kneads the pushing now an then", he said.". Hellen ran her fingers threw her lush, wavy, salt and pepper hare and siezed her mouth into a grimase. She wonted to screem but she insted said this . "Dog in heaven, you make me so made some times!. Come hear you stub burned old fuel and kiss me; You no how mulch you want too"!. Cyril didnt mauve however, he just rolled his eye, lowered his browe an foccused on his wittling. Now hold still whilst I finnish this port rate"...

Whew! That's pretty bad, isn't it? You might need some help from Dad or maybe the neighbor's very smart dachshund just to get through all of it. You'll have fun, though!

THANK YOU for reading this issue of Creative Drive. Remember, you can get personalized coaching, editing and ghostwriting on request. Simply get in touch.

See you next time!

? Copyright 2024 by Lawrence Payne. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated or distributed without permission from the author.