Following formulas and dictates to
create writing just doesn’t sit well with me. I probably incorporate
practically every “Avoid This” or “Don’t Do That” dictated by well-meaning advisors
of writing techniques. I don’t own any books on how to write and spend no time
on “craft” articles suggested by friends and colleagues.
When forced to write research papers
in high school and college, I'd decide upon my topic within a few days of
receiving the assignment. In my favorite nook of the library, I would pile books
and periodicals a foot high, reading and documenting carefully. I’d sift
through everything I could get my hands on within the first seventy-two hours.
And then I’d think.
And think some more.
Mentally, I’d shift around my ideas.
On the bus or in the car, I’d write and rewrite my drafts. In internal
conversations, I’d revise and edit. Then I’d take one afternoon, and notes in
hand, write my entire paper from beginning to end.
All of this would be done before the
due date of the first incremental stack of notecards and without an outline.
Forced by my professors to follow their formulaic writing, I’d scribe neat
notecards from my little scraps of paper. I’d construct an outline following
the final draft that sat completed on my desk. Whatever hoops I needed to jump
through to get the step-by-step grade, I did after I’d written the entire paper.
For me, small sequential steps still
don’t natural. I have this gestalt approach to everything. I survived by doing
my own emersion into the paper, and then creating what the teacher or professor
demanded for their grades or evaluation.
As a teacher of writing, I allowed
my students the freedom I never had as a student of writing. I didn’t require
them to start at the beginning because sometimes that’s just not where a
thought leads you. I had success in taking students who insisted they couldn’t
write and turning them into outstanding writers.
With almost every assignment, the first two or three nights, the homework
assignment would be—THINK. I’d instruct my students to think about their
stories on the bus, during dinner, or on the toilet (seventh grade boy humor).
My formula driven kids longed to begin planning, so I’d let them scribble
down ideas, make their graphic organizers. But that wasn’t required from every
writer. Every year, I’d have a couple of students in each class who jumped into
writing the way I did—feet first and fully emerged. They’d float down in the
depths of their imaginations during all of that “think time” without penning a
single word. Then on the days when they were told to grab paper, pencils and
pillows, these previous non-writers would stretch out under a desk and write,
write, write, write and write all of their thoughts.
Sometimes, I miss watching those moments when students discovered their ability to think, create and write. But then . . .
I realize that I get to take on wonderful adventures because I have endless hours to
simply, and enjoyably—THINK.
Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
