So as I was scribbling in my journal this morning in a local coffee shop, I noticed that for the first time in a month, I was writing a second extended prose passage in a single week. I noticed, paging through the same week the skeletal outline of a poem as well. I have been wondering as of late why I am not more driven to do this sort of play with words. I seem continually to mutter, “I want to find more time to write.” But here in a summer when I am teaching a single class, my journal is collecting cobwebs.
My wife, who is surely tired of my muttering, has observed, “If you are not driven to write, you are not. Perhaps you should stop feeling guilty.” That comment was settling in as I did a 45-minute run, part of a training regimen that I have no problem completing. I have been diddling with triathlons for a year or so; I’ve been involved with literature and rhetoric seriously for almost twenty. If I can dedicate time (and a good deal of energy and suffering) for the former but not the latter, perhaps Linda is right.
But as I write this reflection, I am thinking, “This just won’t do.” I am more and more suspicious of writing teachers who do not themselves write. I have long been at risk of being such a teacher. Over the past decade only my drafting of a journal, an occasional sequence of poems, an endless number of writing assignments, notes, and conference papers have saved me. I could began listing reasons and slide into a critique of my culture and its view of teachers and education and poetry, but to what end. The fact is that I have only just kept the teaching of writing from becoming a formulaic means of earning a paycheck or, at best, a venue to facilitate human development (as opposed to specific sorts of literacy).
Troubling.
I sit on outlines for two books (with a contract for one) and a half-dozen essays, and I write more outlines. I design activities to facilitate other people’s drafting. I wonder how to practice what I think. How complete is my thinking when drafts don’t get done? Are there authentic audiences out there? I am struggling to imagine them.
These questions lead me to the one that most needs an answer. What am I willing to give up in order to write? That is a question I hope to explore with other “writers” this fall.
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2 comments:
I choose to response to this blog entry due to its relatablity. I enjoy writing and literature greatly. I even plan on my major being based on those two topics.
I found your blog to be similar to struggles i have had in the past with my "passion". I love art in all sense of the word. Literature, writing, painting etc. But you're final question hit me "What am I willing to give up in order to write?". I think every artist has to ask themselves this. What am I willing to give up to pursue this interest. Life often gets in the way. Perhaps, your passion or interests have changed. Perhaps they've become just a career? Which i can see equally troubling. Either way when a road block presents its self it is reasonable to question it.
"I am more and more suspicious of writing teachers who do not themselves write. I have long been at risk of being such a teacher."
As soon as a read this, I immediately wanted to comment. I share your struggle. But, be prepared, I will most likely trouble you more.
I am an exercise instructor. The type I teach, Gyrokinesis, is based on 'monkey see, monkey do.' So, hypothetically, I should be reaping the benefits from doing the work. I am experiencing a level of feeling deeper than than most of my students but it's actually on a more transparent level. In truth, my practice is most effective at 110% internal focus. That's me alone, moving alone and feeling. For those who experience my teaching, they can't be more than say 80% into their bodies as they have to listen to my directions and occasionally watch me (as long as they're not getting distracted by others in class or their own evil thoughts of judgement).
I hope you can follow this:
For myself as a teacher, while I'm teaching and taking into consideration the experience of everyone else, I would say I'm only about 50% in my body. What's more more interesting... some of the cues I give while I'm teaching, I've actually felt at that exact moment, the other part I've felt either in other classes I taught but really the majority of my lesson came from my own self practice and from experiencing the teaching of others.
Keep following me...
I also teach others to teach. Most of what I find I'm relating during trainings are my real life experiences in getting new classes started. I even can point out and make sense of the flaws in the system itself as the creator himself for years now has been working only with his teachers who in turn teach for him around the world. So, even HE doesn't really know how to market the system of exercise to 'real' people. He lost touch with that long ago.
There are Master Trainers who are wonderful teachers in part due to the brilliance and logic of the system itself. Yet, I've seen the flaws in their teacher training due to lack of maintaining real life experience. They go off on tangents that aren't applicable to what is necessary for the real life experiences their students will run into. Personally, I don't have enough time in my teacher training to get all of my relevant experiences out. It's impossible.
Does this apply to teaching writing? Not sure. Maybe not so much, as I'm dealing with health and the body. There are so many influences and variables it may be unfair to compare but at least it's an alternate approach to viewing it.
Plus, do you know how many sideline/ hobbyist writers like me would LOVE a contract? So, what would you sacrifice to replace it with real life experience, you ask? Not biking. That keeps you sane. Maybe take a little away from your class time and revising of the syllabus. Why not?
Everyone in class would love to hear your day to day accounts of being a successful writer and living it out. And I'm sure we'd learn something from it.
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