The purpose of this book is to introduce readers to the practice of creative writing. Equally, the purpose of this book is to introduce writers to the practice of creative reading. Writing and reading share an interdependent orbit around the open space of language.
This double helix of reading and writing makes you more alert to your potential as a reader and writer of yourself, of other people and of other writers. It also creates a discipline in your life that makes these acts of attention a way of life. It is then vital you learn to work alone and beyond your potential – writers and readers alike work beyond their own intelligence.
As this is an introduction to a discipline, we discuss where creative writing comes from, the various forms and camouflages it has taken and why we teach and learn it. I do not present you with an anatomy of the various histories of creative writing in higher education; there are fine examples available in print (Dawson, 2005; Myers, 1995).
The first five chapters explore principles and procedures of creative writing that apply generally to the writing and techniques of fiction, creative nonfiction, poetry and, to some extent, drama. Guests to this party include reading, criticism, vocation, influence, reflection, experience, play, publishing, editing, language, translation, imitation, experiment, design, form, quality, discipline, notebooks, working habits, fieldwork, composition, incubation, planning, fluency, finishing, rewriting, deadlines, precision, confidence, practice, audience, voice and selves. We look at the meaning and sound of language; the different states of mind we use for writing; the workshop in its various guises and disguises; and the enemies and allies of creativity. I also explore the characteristics of mind by which we might develop writerly stamina.
The first five chapters concern the generics; Chapters Six to Nine introduce important genres. They present some of the techniques and practice for fiction, poetry and the international supergenre, creative nonfiction. However, not all creative writers write for the page. We look at creative writing as a verbal art in performance; as hybrid with public and visual art; and as electronic literature. I argue that none of these is at odds with the making of books; they are all spaces open to creative literary practice. Chapter Ten looks at writing as an act of community; I then attempt to speculate modest engagements for creative writing in the creative academy, for example within science.
For experts in this field, all of what I have to say is rudimentary. This book is for creative writing students, beginning writers and new teachers of writing. The cast of this book is about the roots of creativity in writing, and the routes into the writing of fiction, creative nonfiction and poetry, rather than higher techniques. My reason for the book’s architecture is to send you immediately into the action of writing, by offering a series of open spaces for discussion, reflection and practice. It has been argued that half the skills a writer needs to learn are skills of psychological sturdiness, and the other half are skills of literary craft (Bly, 2001: xix). I agree, and the book is designed to address these complementary phases of creative development.
This is an introduction, partial and selective. No book can, or should, cover everything. I think that you should be given open space to find your own way in these matters, and to argue back on points I take to extremes. Given its length, I centre on topics rather than texts, tempting though it was to select examples instead of moving forward single-handed. Guidance is offered through the lists of recommended reading, and by following up the next section on examples and sources. A book about creative writing requires lifetime subscription to The Alexandrian Library, and my recommended reading lists scan only the eye-level shelves. That said, ‘A man will read a library to write just one book’ – Dr Johnson. Those lists are starting points.
Since this is a book about, of all things, creative writing, I tried to keep my language open and personal, tuning out academic white noise – citations only when necessary, endnotes shown the door. I welcomed into the book subjective and general values like pleasure, passion, experience, love, intuition, hate, pain and playfulness. Moreover, the book is written to be read from beginning to end, as a story of learning. It is not a hoard of tips, or a compendium of games. I wanted to make a book that hits things fresh; one that is written from inside writing. While I do not disguise the difficulties of process, I celebrate its epiphanies, especially the euphoria of reading. Reading and writing are neverending journeys. I wanted to remind myself of how it feels to be beginning as a writer, the first excitements of reading, the waking in created countries.
Creative writing – even clear writing – closes distances between us. It makes us wake up. What this book offers you is an introduction and an invitation. Think of it as a miniature stage: the matters that are closest to the covers are your entrances and exits. What is in the middle is play, where you are both the players and – with your acceptance of this invitation – those upon whom ideas and language play.
I gathered the arguments and discussions from my own reading but also from others more deeply and widely read than myself. I took examples of practice from hundreds of discussions with contemporary writers about their philosophies, influences and craft. I reflected on my own teaching of creative writing in universities, adult education, communities and schools; and co-teaching and observing teaching in the English-speaking world, especially the United States, Canada and in Europe. Writing this book has been a chastening personal experience, and my admiration for writers and teachers has increased inestimably. Errors in this book are my responsibility.
Examples and sources for writers
Readers who wish to become writers find resonance – even purpose – in statements on the writing process made by authors who have lived their lives by the word. I pepper the text with examples, and attempt to synthesise some of the best standard guidance. When thinking about the aims and processes of creative writing, literary biographies and autobiographies are a useful place to begin to find out about a writer’s working methods and philosophy. The Paris Review interviews, downloadable at the journal’s website, remain the best resource for testimonies by writers about their practice. There are other rich sources for this type of material (Allen, 1948; Brown and Paterson, 2003; Burke, 1995; Haffenden, 1981; Harmon, 2003; Herbert and Hollis, 2000).
In writing, what we leave half-said is as significant as what we spell out. I signal a variety of key works and further reading that amplify, or exemplify, matters that need your closer attention, especially in regard to writing fiction, creative nonfiction and poems. There are several superb technical books on imaginative and formal writing (Behn and Twichell, 1992; Bernays and Painter, 1991; Burroway, 2006; Fussell, 1979; Koch, 1990; Matthews and Brotchie, 1998; Novakovich, 1995; Padgett, 2000; Steele, 1999; Stein, 1995; Strand and Boland, 2000); on the practical and philosophical processes of writing fiction, poetry or creative nonfiction (Addonizio and Laux, 1997; Boisseau and Wallace, 2004; Brande, 1981; Burroway, 2003; Dillard, 1989; Eshleman, 2001; Gardner, 1983, 1985; Gutkind, 1997; Hughes, 1967; Hugo, 1979; King, 2000; Kinzie, 1999; Kundera, 2000; Lamott, 1995; Lodge, 1992; Oliver, 1994; Packard, 1992; Sansom, 1994; Stein, 1995; Zinsser, 1976); on creative writing, revision and rewriting (Anderson, 2006; Bell and Magrs, 2001; Browne and King, 2004; Le Guin, 1998; Mills, 2006; Ostrom et al., 2001; Schaefer and Diamond, 1998); and on the nature of creativity and the psychology of writing (Boden, 2004; Hershman and Lieb, 1998; Hunt and Sampson, 2006; Koestler, 1975; Lakoff and Johnson, 1980; Pfenninger and Shubik, 2001; Pope, 2005; Turner, 1996). On questions of style, you will find your own answers as you read and practise. Be sure to pack The Elements of Style (Strunk and White, 2000) with you on the journey; it will take little room compared to what it offers so generously.
Extensive quotation of primary texts is, unfortunately, expensive in permissions. I offer examples in the main text and epigraphs to chapters, but guide readers towards literature within commonly used anthologies, as widespread in public libraries as they are on international university reading lists. You need not possess those anthologies to use this book. This is the key:
NA1
The Norton Anthology of American Literature, 6th edition/package 1: vols. A and B. General editor: Nina Baym, Norton, 2003.
NA2
The Norton Anthology of American Literature, 6th edition/package 2: vols. C, D and E. General editor: Nina Baym, Norton, 2003.
NE1
The Norton Anthology of English Literature, 7th edition/vol. 1. General editors: M. H. Abrams and Stephen Greenblatt, Norton, 2000.
NE2
The Norton Anthology of English Literature, 7th edition/vol. 2. General editors: M. H. Abrams and Stephen Greenblatt, Norton, 2000.
NP
The Norton Anthology of Poetry, 5th edition. Editors: Margaret Ferguson, Mary Jo Salter and Jon Stallworthy, Norton, 2005.
Writing Games
Writing creatively can feel a little like working out logistical, even mathematical, challenges. Writing Games provide this elegant calculus in taut form. A bare page can terrify; a game simulates the real thing, or is a means of keeping your hand in, almost like playing scales. With practice, simulations can become the real thing. No writer creates a book at one sitting; they write it in stages, as passages, scenes and stanzas, and each stage requires several drafts. Writing Games clone this process, and are often true to the natural rhythm of literary production in that technique and style are often learned on the job. There are many creative writing projects embedded in the text, as well as ideas and suggestions that students and teachers can use as starting points for games. Within the body of each chapter, I offer some self-standing games that help you explore its issues. Each project has an aim for judging progress.