writing right

While I can’t say that I was surprised by the advice Boice offered in these chapters, I still think it’s good advice. I can totally see why a lot of people would bristle at Boice’s seeming desiccation of the creative process. After all, artists are inspired right? We don’t think of them as habitual production machines who are both mindful and disciplined. Many people may be able to function well under periods of ‘divine madness’, but I’m certainly not one of them. I am someone for whom the process of writing produces a lot of anxiety, and its pretty much for the reasons Boice identifies. I don’t really have a sense of humor about it, I over identify with it, etc.

I do agree with Boice, if I could, I would be the type of writer he urges one to become. However, in my case this may only be possible with handy access to adderall and lorazepam.

One caveat I have with Boice is that I don’t think we are as transparent to ourselves as he indicates. I think that the detachment from self he urges is an illusion of sorts. I think that we can think we seem transparent to ourselves, but that this is always the site of a fundamental misrecognition. I’m not saying we can’t get in the zone (and I kinda agree with Boice here, I think the ‘zone’ is nothing but a period of low ego interference) but I’m skeptical of both parts of his approach and the idea of a limpid consciousness.

Boice's Awareness

Although I have enjoyed reading Boice's other chapters and value his advice, while reading Boice's chapter 15 on emotion, I was very concerned about his advice. I thought that the chapter was extremely offensive to people who are bi-polar. He doesn't seem to have any understanding that it is a biological disorder, not one anyone would will for him or herself. Although everyone can benefit for mindfulness when teaching, I was disappointed to find him framing his discussion of emotion in terms of hypomania and depression. People with bi-polar disorder struggle with these ups and downs for life and many work hard to lessen these shifts as much as possible. He presents random data and is no expert on hypomania. His discussion of data is trite and not well-supported since he is not qualified to truly analyze emotion (a blanket, unscientific term) and conducts a study that's not large enough to produce accurate results. He mixes what he deems real evidence with random quotes in a very short chapter which trivializes the topic altogether. This trivialization is really very offensive to some. There were moments, particularly at the end of the chapter where he spoke of mindfulness in a truly constructive way and I was glad to see him ending the chapter with a more aware and positive advice. But I think that the whole chapter could and should have been about mindfulness without his skewed and unsupported data and speculation that people with depression and hypomania have complete control of their ups and downs. It's just not realistic for everyone. I thought the chapter showed a lack of consideration and awareness and a disappointing discussion in which he deems himself an expert.

Cookie Monster Would Benefit From Moderating His Attachments to Cookies, But Would The Subtleties of His Pro-Cookie Thinking Be Lost?

It's not surprising that the creative writers among us have such antagonistic responses to Boice's "Moderate Emotions" chapter. While I'm not crazy about this advice either, it does make more sense to moderate your emotions when dealing with critical work. While I may get emotional about a Marxist reading of "Bartleby, the Scrivener," it seems unlikely that this would help my work in the same way that a short story might be helped by an emotional impetus. When I approach my work, I feel that it is helpful to offset anxiety with a sort of radical indifference - not so much a moderation of emotion as a repression of it through sheer force of will. I'm kidding, of course, but only barely.
Which brings me to Boice's other advice, about "Moderate Attachments." Whether you prefer murdering your darlings or drowning your children, the idea that you should not become overly attached to your writing is a sensible one. It's a type of indifference to certain parts of your writing in service to the whole. However, I have mixed feelings about setting my drafts aside for a few days before returning for revision. I've found that, on the few occasions when I've had the time to set aside my work for a few days, I returned to it having forgotten many of the concepts and ideas that I was working through. These are complex ideas we're working with here, folks. I much prefer Cohen's advice that you should work on your paper every day a least a little, no matter what stage of the process you're in, so that the subtleties of your thinking don't get lost through non-involvement.

All Things In Moderation...Sort Of.

So I have to admit, I've mostly been thinking of Boice's rules to mindful writing as a creative writer, and not as a writer in the academic sense. Yes, I am studying creative writing. But, I feel (and sincerely hope) that as a creative writer, I get to throw these rules out the window. I have to say that some of my most favorite pieces--of my own, that is--were written in what Boice would call a state of hypomania. Emotion drives plot, characters and my own interest in a narrative. It is what makes me write the way I do to make readers care, which is especially difficult in nonfiction. I think the most successful and brilliant authors were the ones who were emotionally unsound, too.

Boice notes that writing at times of high emotion prevent the stopping method of writing, and is therefore unproductive. This might be true for mindful writers, which I don't think I am. So I'm not sure I'm on board for establishing emotional moderation. I can almost identify with Boice's Rule 8, in which he instructs writers to let go of their perfectionist attitudes and just go. I get that. But at this point in the book, I'm not as willing to try Boice's methods. Sometimes writing needs to be stressful--emotional, dare I say. It's an incredibly intimate idea, to write and then let strangers read them. If I tried to keep all of Boice's rules in mind when writing, I think my head would explode.

It seems cruel to ask graduate students, or even new faculty members, to keep their emotions in check, because god forbid it affect their writing. We're human beings--emotional, feeling beings.  It's irony, almost, that Boice asks us to let go of our attachments and emotions, but then gives us these rules to follow.  I think I've broken many of his rules (namely these two, I realize), but it works for me. I can't say that I will use Boice's rules, but I'm sure there are those writers who need this sort of instruction. Try again next time, Boice.

This is what Boice looks like, I think

In his fifteenth and sixteenth (and umpteenth) chapter, Robert Boice gifts us with advice on how to be moderate writers. When we write moderately, we can moderately create moderately good writing with moderate frequency on a moderate schedule. It is a very nice (but only moderately nice) approach to writing.

I’m more puzzled by these ideas than anything else in this book. If all it took to moderate one’s emotions was a decision to do so, would people really act the way they act? And, more importantly, would they ever be nearly as entertaining? I like writing that is ecstatic, or depressive, or painful, or, in other words, completely immoderate. I don’t care about the emotional toll it takes on the writer. And if that’s how I feel about the arrangement from the reader’s side, it doesn’t seem fair to endorse moderate feelings about writing.

The idea of moderate attachment is a bit more accessible. A writer must be willing to drown her children, so to speak—to let go of bits of writing in pursuit of a larger good. But isn’t this attachment to writing—or moderation—somehow immoderate in and of itself?

If my students pull all-nighters to finish their papers, I will revel in it. Look at my power to rob human beings of sleep! I am practically the boogey-man.

Isn’t Boice immoderately attached to mindfulness?

Moderate Attachments

   

    Boice’s suggestion about moderate attachments in chapter 16 reminds me of my college composition teacher, who always suggests that we put our drafts aside for a few days before we revise them. His suggestion echoes Boice’s advice. They both think it is important to maintain a certain distance from our own works so we can generate criticism from that distance. It is hard to practice my college teacher’s suggestion because I usually cannot complete my draft that early and afford to put it aside for a few days. But I found Boice’s suggestion is useful. Though Boice also emphasizes the importance of starting early and thus having a draft finished early, he also offers some strategies that I can employ during the process of writing. For example, he says that we can work with other people (which I really did for this semester) so we can have others take a look at our works. He also suggests that we work “with a compassionate sense of audience in mind” (180). This piece of advice is also useful because if I am unable to finish my draft that early, I can at least try to avoid overattachment while writing.

    I also found it is important to maintain a distance not only from our writing but also from others’. Sometimes I found that the latter is more difficult to practice than the former because others’ (published) essays are so convincing and well-explained that it takes effort to keep a critical distance from them. Sometimes I just find myself “overattached” to the works I read. I think Boice’s advice is also applicable when it comes to reading others’ writing.   

The emotional roller coaster.

Boice, a.k.a. Mr Miyagi, instructs us to moderate our emotions. He doesn't spend too much time warning us of depression, but instead warns against hypomania.

It honestly reminds me of poets. For the most depressing set of biographies, read about poets, especially around the modern time. Two modern poets stuck their heads in gas ovens. It's hard to tell if their art drove them all crazy, or if being crazy made them produce art.

It's seven years until I complete my PhD. That's a long time to hold onto my sanity, especially as a writer.

A couple of lessons I've learned recently that have been spoken to me by people wiser than myself, and seem related to this:

1. Joy and happiness are not the same thing - happiness is temporary and fleeting, while joy is a more permanent state to be achieved.

2. I have a friend who has a tradition taken from his father. He eats grapefruit, even though he doesn't necessarily like grapefruit. This is a physical iteration of the adage that without the bitter, the sweet isn't as sweet.

Now, I don't think it's as easy as Boice says it is - and he certainly isn't an Emotional Psychologist. But I think he is correct that we should pursue a general contentment, rather than constant elation.

Moderation or Intensity or Something in Between

Boice’s chapter “Moderate Emotions” made me think of the Chinese contemporary poet Hai Zi who died of suicide when he was 25 in 1989. He was said to have been writing intensely during the years before his death, often throughout the night. He had also practiced qigoing, which somehow caused him to hallucinate, another factor believed to have caused his suicide. He left behind him 200 or so lyric poems and several epics; all seemed to be written with some kind of emotional intensity and many of them will no doubt remain to be masterpieces in Chinese literature.

I wonder whether he could have done or ended differently had he exercised moderation, the mode of conduct that permeated classical Eastern philosophy and Boice’s book. Hai Zi, a lover of the classics and a devotee to Tibetan and Indian Buddhism, nevertheless couldn’t or didn’t want to be moderate, as if he was destined not to.

Boice’s advice is certainly sound and appealing, but people’s writing habit is largely based on who they are and what they believe works for them. Nowadays, I write quite differently from what I used to, agreeing more with Wordsworth that poetry (or other genres of writing) “takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility,” with which Boice’s idea seems to agree as well. But nobody can guarantee that’s the only way to generate good work.

Moderate Writing

I have a bit of a mixed reaction to Boice’s advice in Chapters 15 and 16 (that we “moderate emotions” and “moderate attachments,” respectively). On the one hand, I absolutely agree; moderating emotion and attachment, while not necessarily the best advice in all aspects of life, seem like good practices in writing. I especially like Boice’s connections between moderating attachment to our writing and practicing revision; though it seems a bit cheesy, I think the saying “I’m not much of a writer, but I’m a great rewriter” can be a helpful way of approaching writing and of relieving the stress associated with beginning (179).

On the other hand, though, it sometimes seems to me that Boice fails to practice his own advice of “stopping before feeling ready” in these chapters. Much of what he writes here is so similar to what he’s written in previous chapters that I think he could easily condense all these points into one chapter about self-control. Talking about balance and moderation is certainly helpful, but I can’t help but feel that Boice needs to balance his advice with a sort of “pause,” in order for readers to think about the usefulness of his advice rather than wondering why he keeps restating the same (or at least very similar) points.

Balance in everything...so stop.

I realize this blog is late, but I think hospitalization is an adequate excuse. More on that at a later date.

Balance is a critical element, and it has been taught by many great minds throughout history. I don't need to repeat it.

The Greeks believed our entire health resided in the balance of just a few chemicals in our body....

But the balance that Boice has interested me with is time on and off work. Some of us work too hard, and others not hard enough. At OSU, when I taught academic success, I would suggest students aim for a Sabbath - and I think it's a great practice for graduate school, too.

Now, I'm not talking about a religious sabbath - that is a very different sabbath. I'm talking about a day of rest, which is what we commonly think of when we think of the Jewish sabbath (not really what the Hebrew sabbath was/is). A sabbath for us is just a day to NOT be a student.

It takes actually seems harder at first. You must work hard enough for six days that you can take a seventh day off - and you try to refrain from any work, especially that work that pertains to whatever your job is (for us, studying).

In the book for our 8005 classs, Semenza suggests a 60+ hour work week. If you take a day off, this means putting in six ten hour days.

You can choose the day. I pick the traditional Saturday night, and follow the Jewish custom of Saturday beginning on Friday night, because it let's me cheat a little. At Sundown on Friday I stop working, and, honestly, at Sundown on Saturday I probably have plans with people so unless I'm really behind I usually don't sit down and begin working immediately until Sunday morning.

I encourage you to try this practice. I already do it for religious purposes, but I've had many students who wouldn't consider themselves spiritual give it a try, and they all love it.

Moderation. Balance, positive thoughts. Aw yea!

As crunch time with seminar papers sets in, Boice’s advice, while still annoyingly zen like, at least seems seems increasingly palatable, for example chapter 13 is about cultivating mindful practices and working with balance. It’s not that I don’t agree with these things; I can definitely tell when I’m working mindfully (which I’m not right now. In fact I rarely am), it’s just that it seems like riding a bike. I can tell when I’’m doing it and I can tell when I’m not, but it’s like when you first start learning and your dad is like holding the bike and jogging behind you and then he lets go. It’s hard to tell what’s you and what’s luck. My response to this chapter speaks, I think, metonymically for my thoughts on the rest of the book-it’s like reading a book on how to ride a bike. This, of course, is all supposed to help you work in a balanced fashion and let go of negative thoughts. I mean, again, good (and timely) advice, but it’s like a manifesto rather than a manual. Accordingly, one gets the feeling that this book could be made to apply to many things, not just writing. It’s advice from someone at the end of his career, who has long since passed through the gamut of his prime and long since laid down the mantle of his ambition. It’s a retrospective given by someone who has run the race and came in in the top half and is cool with that because it all worked out in the end. This is what makes Boice both annoying and palatable.

More Balance?

While I certainly agree with Boice that balance and positive thinking are critical to good writing and teaching (and, beyond these, to life in general), I have trouble swallowing his advice in these chapters because he makes these practices sound so easy. When he writes about balancing work and play, for example, he simply reminds us of the saying “All work and no play make Jack a dull boy,” then skips ahead to the next chapter without giving us any real suggestions about how to accomplish this balance (156).

Perhaps this frustrates me most because I am a person who consistently struggles with balance; I don’t want someone to remind me of clichés in a book that claims it will give me advice—I want the advice, even if I disagree with parts of it or am skeptical of its effectiveness. I guess it’s possible that Boice thinks this matter is so basic that he doesn’t need to dwell on it, but considering that he consistently returns to ideas such as stopping and beginning before feeling ready—which, at least in my opinion, are much more straightforward and easier to practice—I can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t spend more time on this issue of balance.

Two vs. One

In Chapter 13, “Work with Balance,” Boice suggests that we “use balance to keep a second writing project going.” I have already found it difficult to work on two writing projects at the same time, especially if they’re of different genres. So far, I haven’t been able to write both poetry and fiction during the same period of time. If I couldn’t finish one writing project before moving on to the next, I would have to mentally tell myself that the current project needs to be laid aside for a while and I wouldn’t revisit it until the new project is done. Writing has meant immersion to me and having two projects going on would feel like diving in and out of two creative pools. Though part of me does wonder whether that’s just a habit of mind, as some writers certainly prove to be able to do otherwise. Borges for example, had written a number of poems in between short stories. I wonder how their mind switches gears.

Boice suggests that having a second project going helps the first project proceed in a patient and unrushed manner. Moderation and constancy, according to him, are essential to good work. To have a second project going prevents a writer from either rushing his or her first project to an unfulfilling end or risking a block and abandoning the project for good. He also believes that having two projects “reduce the sameness” and produce “interplay of ideas.” All those make sense to me. I’d actually like to try it during the winter break, as I have a strong desire to write both poetry and short stories. I’ll see how being mindful can help me create a balance in writing different genres. Right now, my mind is also full, but in a bad way.

Not too Fast!

I agree with Boice that “positive thinking is… far more efficient” (159). Writing does need a certain degree of emotional stability. However, it is not always easy to replace negative thoughts with constructive thinking even though one keeps telling herself that thinking negatively is a waste of time. Sometimes the pressure of feeing the need to be positive will just bring about more negative s feelings about oneself. So, I would say that there is no need to feel pressured to switch from one emotion to another in a short period of time in order to become an efficient problem solver or writer. One should be allowed to feel bad or think negatively even though the process of this yields no concrete or visible results.

    But I do agree that positive thinking has much more positive effect on oneself, so I believe in the importance of replacing one’s negative thinking with the positive ones, but this does not have to be done hastily. Boice’s suggestion of stop and pause is very useful here. One can apply Boice’s idea of stopping in dealing with negative thinking. For example, I can pause to think through where the negative thinking comes from and why I think it negatively and how I can think it from different perspectives. One just needs time to think about her feelings and emotions before she can replace them with positive ones.

I'll bet Boice's hobbies include 'Jenga'

Yes, that's a balance joke.

It’s funny how often Boice’s advice on mindfulness coincides with good, old-fashioned common sense. He talks about working with balance—and living with that balance—as if the opposite would make any sense. I would like to read a book that says something to the effect of “spend 8 weeks developing your syllabus, but don’t bother to show up to class to teach it.”

But the point isn’t lost on me. Not even a great syllabus and stack of lesson plans will afford me the option of turning on an auto-pilot switch during the classes. I’ll have to be able to think on my feet, I’ll have to be mentally present. This might require me to be even more mentally locked-in than I am when I am sitting in the students’ position in my graduate seminars.

Although, that sentiment seems somewhat at odds to the practical advice we’ve been given so far. Jonas and Rachel strongly suggest making a plan and sticking to it; straying too far from a plan can quickly derail a class. I’m curious about the extent to which I might adapt my approach from week-to-week without threatening my integrity as a young, inexperienced, promising, ridiculously good-looking and undoubtedly intriguing graduate instructor.

Overall, I think Boice’s approach is valuable for teaching. But I don’t think it applies to writing, at least not as much. I’ll be a balanced teacher. But I refuse to stop stumbling around in the dark as a writer.

Boice's Balance and Negative Thoughts

I really actually admire the idea of spending equal time preparing for a project as writing it. I think this is a difficult skill to master, but one that comes more easily the longer you have been in school. I can think back to how I would write large paper at the end of the semester my freshman year of college and it was quite unbalanced, by Boice's definition of the term. I like the idea of prewriting, or just gathering information as a  lengthy part of writing, because too often I think it can be rushed or even overlooked. The fact that this can translate to how teachers prepare for classes is interesting to me, though I can't speak to its validity since i have not yet taught. But I think it's important to keep this sense of balance between preparation and actual teaching or writing that Boice talks about.

I found the chapter on negative thoughts and how they affect thinking particularly interesting. It makes sense, as stress has been seen to have all kinds of effects on the human body and brain. I actually tried one of Boice's exercises in which he invites his readers to notice their thinking when writing. I found that I was often too submerged in the topic I was writing about to notice my positive or negative thoughts. In hindsight, I think I was writing pretty positively, though I don't know if it helped my writing at all. At any rate, the assertion that negative thinking has negative effects on writing makes sense, though I'm not yet sure how I could apply this to teaching.

Thanksgiving Resolution (Boice Style)

Even though I often get frustrated with Boice for telling us to “stop”—I think he must (rightly) anticipate that our tendencies toward impatience will test our abilities to follow his advice, or he wouldn’t keep reminding us to slow down—I’m intrigued by his advice in these chapters, particularly his recommendations about writing with “constancy and moderation” (137-144). This is not something I’m particularly good at; though I’ve never managed to pull one of those (in)famous all-nighters, I rarely start my writing projects far in advance and, as a result, I generally feel paralyzed when the time comes to start writing.

So instead of simply reflecting on Boice’s advice this week, I’m going to test it out. Well, actually I’m going to test it next week; I’m still a bit too skeptical that I’ll have adequate spare time to stick to my resolution when classes are in session. Anyhow here’s the plan: over Thanksgiving break, I’m going to take Boice’s advice and practice writing for my upcoming papers daily. Even if it’s only five, ten, or fifteen minutes, just to keep my ideas fresh. I plan to “prewrite briefly, planfully before moving to prose,” as Boice recommends (147) and, though I’m not sure writing at a regular place at a regular time will be feasible as Aaron and I make the rounds visiting our families, I will chart my progress as I go. Should anyone actually read this post, your job is to keep me accountable: ask me after break whether or not I actually stuck to the plan. I’m a lousy liar, so hopefully the mere prospect that anyone might confront me will force me to stick to the resolution.

Boice Will Be Boice

Here we are again with the stopping and the pausing and the beginning early and the wonderful made up words like planfully. Boice tells me that I have no patience or tolerance for his wisdom, and mostly he’s right.

Except in this bit of the eleventh chapter, in which he writes about daily writing. I’ll admit—and only somewhat begrudgingly—that Boice’s prescribed approach to daily writing resembles my own habits. I’m currently hammering away at a seminar paper by writing two pages here, three pages there. It seems much easier than entering a metaphorical bunker with my notes, too little time and pipe dreams of congratulatory beers.

I don’t believe in the hyper-structured approach Boice advocates. I don’t know that I’ll ever actually chart my progress or recruit a writing buddy. But I do often stop when I’m gaining steam so that I’ll have a good place to pick up the next day. And I rarely rush myself.

For me, everything I do goes on a daily to-do list, except for my writing. Writing—whether fiction or scholarly work—generally stays off these lists. That’s because as soon as I put them on a list, as soon as a I follow Boice’s advice, writing begins to feel like work. It begins to feel like something that needs to be done with. I much prefer it my way, when writing naturally finds its way into my day as a pleasant escape from the screwed-up world in which we live.

Wax on, wax off.

Again, I don't think we've heard anything new from Boice. It seems to me that my own complaints are similar to the complaints that Boice admitted reader's voiced in his own introduction.

I'm starting to feel like the frustrated kid from The Karate Kid. I want to learn some awesome karate moves, and I get told 'wax on, wax off'. 'Stop. Pause.'

I think that Boice's advice is good (though there's too much of it), as I'm starting to see it appear in my daily life.

Now I'm just waiting for the epic moment, the one where I win the tournament with a broken leg.

jds

Stopping for a Cup of Tea

In chapter 12, Boice says that bodily fatigue (ex. eye strains) can help us to pause or stop. I agree with Boice. I usually stop when I feel hungry or when my eyes are aching. However, I do not think that this is the only situation in which I practice Boice’s suggestion. So, I was thinking: do I pause or stop besides the time I feel physically tired?

I usually think of “stop” in a literal sense, that is, I stop doing something and then sit on the sofa to relax. But, in fact, I practice my stopping by doing (other things), so I do not literally stop. For example, I brew a cup of tea as a gesture of pausing or stopping whenever I sit at the desk. And it takes time to choose what kind of tea I would like to have today, and I boil water, and then I wait for tea leaves to expand, and I drain the first brew of tea, and I pour hot water again, and finally I have my tea. I pause during the writing when I sip my tea. Also, I repeat the whole process of brewing tea when it goes bland. I think pausing or stopping is important for me, but I am not the person who can completely stop and do nothing. So, I believe that finding my own way of pausing and stopping is important.

Boice says that what makes stop difficult are the “deficits in patience and tolerance.” This statement reminds me that the way one experiences her writing or working is closely related to her personality. For example, the person who possesses the personality of patience or stableness may be more likely to practice Boice advice. I guess the best way to create my other forms of pausing and stopping is to know what kind of person I am and find what really suits me. 

I like Boice’s concept of writing with moderation and consistency and stop at the right time. When I was working on my novel earlier this year, I was pretty much doing that. It felt good, especially in retrospect, and especially in comparison to this chaotic semester when I have no time to write anything I’d like to write. I hope next semester will work out better and I’ll have some time I can call my own and a schedule more hospitable to writing. I think Boice’s advice will be very useful when I finish all my course requirement and start working on my comprehensive exam. Writing and teaching will be the main tasks then, and being consistent will be definitely important.