Goldberg's "Trippy Acid" Writing Advice...

I think from the previous post you might be able to surmise that I am sort of trivializing Natalie Goldberg's writing advice. I know, I know... that's not a nice thing to do. But there's something about psychedelic theory that makes me cringe. These things (Goldberg's advice) might or might not have anything to do with writing, or even the teaching of writing. She does offer some things that fall among the most insightful I have read. Having said that, and knowing I might be asked why I continued reading when the book was so exasperating to begin with (I never put down a book until I am done--hate it notwithstanding), but as with everything there were those bright kernels of wisdom among the post-60s theorisms. Here's a good piece of advice:

"If you can learn writing practice well, it is a good foundation for all other writing."

But then the book is mainly and foremost about this:

"... either in New Mexico or Ohio, we are under a big sky. That big sky is wild mind. I'm going to climb up to that sky straight over our heads and put one dot on it with a Magic Marker. See that dot? That dot is what Zen calls monkey mind or what western psychology calls part of conscious mind. We give all our attention to that one dot. So when it says we can't write, that we're no good, are failures, fools for even picking up a pen, we listen to it."

All this might be true, and I know I am not making full justice by just quoting isolated passages outside of the content, but the truth of the matter is that most of the book talked about her experience with writing, not so much how to assert yourself as a writer using the advice. I did read "Writing Down the Bones," and I plan on reading more from her.... it's just confusing when I think how we worry about all these outside things, and it seems to me that some people just live "out there," somewhere where Iraq, the economy, unemployment, bad political choices by our leaders, the price of crude oil, computer viruses and bad meals do not exist. I know I envy them, and I know I am exaggerating their point, but, really, how can you achieve that level of detachment (which is essentially a Zen principle)? I am over-simplifying and generalizing, but I tend to do that a lot, and I apologize. Here's a more extreme example of what I deem problematic regarding this book. This is a "Try This" exercise, some of which appear randomly after chapters:

"Go ahead, kiss a tree. Walk right out your front door, put your arms around one that you pass every day at the curb, pucker up your lips and give it a big smacker. Close your eyes and put a chocolate kiss in your mouth (or a strawberry or an almond, for those of healthful persuasion). Feel it on your tongue and dream. Now write. Write anything you want. Kissing a tree is silly? What isn't silly? Writing is the silliest of all. If you can write out of that silliness, you'll be a long way on the path."

Again, I have nothing against these approaches, but I suspect that you have to believe in them to a certain extent... if I walked out my office, down the stairs pass all of my students, opened the door to our beautiful campus, went out there and hugged and kissed a tree... what could I say to my students? "Oh, this is about writing, really!" I can see their faces now... "Geez, I thought Prof. R was 'serious' about writing." At any rate, I think Goldberg's advice is for "some" people, not everyone. One thing that strikes me odd about the book is the constant praise of Hemingway as a writer and technician of writing. Often times, liberal minded people bash Hemingway for his macho attitude, etc. That may or may not be a lot of literary revisionism, but it was nevertheless curious to see Goldberg--an obvious liberal--praising Hemingway above other writers she could have chosen. I judge unfairly: she sorts of balances out the book by doing this.

Presently, I am reading "Writing to Heal the Soul: Transforming Grief and Loss Through Writing," by Susan Zimmerman. Why? Because I am dividing my time between classics, writing instruction books, and writing. This is a book that came out of a great deal of suffering, so it is very unlike Goldberg's "happy" thoughts. While I am half-way through it already, I can't really comment until I get past this chapter. So far so good.

About the music on the blog. If it is annoying, let me know and I'll discontinue it. Otherwise, I am planning to change the music file every week. It that plays automatically after the site loads, so if you don't want to hear it, just scroll down and hit the pause button on the player.

On Reading as Life-long Learning... Heathcliff Speaks.

A few years ago, my excitement about Mark Edmundson's book "Why Read" reached such a peak it nearly bordered on the manic. I felt that Edmundson's point was so clearly how I felt that I immediately began to preach his gospel. It basically states that we read to grow humanistically, to understand ourselves and our peers better. Simple enough as a premise, but to keep this constantly present is easier said than done. I have so say with much regret that I didn't enjoy reading "Wuthering Heights" much--or at least I didn't enjoy it until the lesson became clear to me. Heathcliff waits all the way to Chapter 33 to say:

"The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her."

I don't think I have ever taken a line from a character in a novel more serious than this one. It goes back to Edmundson's premise: "to learn about ourselves, to understand our humanity." Heathcliff speaks of that incomparable sense of loss we've all experienced at one time or another (some of us more than others). The reader knows, I believe, that once he/she comes across a line like this one, the enlightenment is quite unavoidable. One must really not be paying attention to miss such a thing. Again, I confess this was not a book I absolutely adored or enjoyed, but felt an irresistible sense of duty to finish it regardless of its shortcomings. I am glad I waited--glad that in the penultimate chapter, finally, as the pages evaporated in front of me, Heathcliff spoke.

I am reading a series of lighter books about the writing process as the decompression from "Wuthering Heights" continues. Natalie Goldberg's books all seem to preach the same premise. I often see her as a hippy, out there on her own little world (Zen, and peace and love and puppies), and I wonder how people can embrace that lifestyle. They are far healthier for it, too. I don't think I've ever been one of those "organic, do-it-yourself, granola eating, greenie" type and now I am wondering why I never embraced that way of life. It really does seem a heck of a lot easier living than what I am doing. I am not trying to trivialize it; I really mean this in a good way.

We had two snow days this week (Tuesday and Wednesday) and I finally caught up with my sleep. This, of course, at the expense of other things like writing and running, but what the heck, I just needed it. Teaching is good and writing is good... and the weekend is here.