Reasons for Writing

Writing for the right reasons is as important as writing well. Do you write because you have something to prove to yourself or others or because you have been told you have talent or skill? Do you write with the hope of fame or fortune or for the status of calling yourself a writer? There are many reasons people choose to write, but none is as important as writing for the love of language. You may be able to write a technically perfect piece of writing, but if there isn't any heart in it, it will fall as flat on readers' ears as a dischordant note. What makes writing truly great writing is when it reflects the love a writer has for syntax, for rhyme, for alliteration, for nuance. In the same way that a dancer loves the movement of muscle and sinew and lives to be able to produce certain motions, a writer must love the movement of language and live to be able to produce certain sounds. Language must be music to a writer's ear. It must flow and sing and move the writer above the fray. To write because there is nothing else that means as much is the reason that will make all the difference between mediocrity and excellence. Think about why you write. Is it for the right reasons?

Impressions First

Before you do anything else in a written work, you must first impress your readers with your beginning. That first sentence, phrase, word, line must be a magnet that pulls readers into your work. If you don't capture readers at the beginning, you won't have a chance to capture them later because there likely won't be a later. Readers need a reason to read further. It's your job as a writer to give them that reason in your opening words, perhaps even before that, in your title. How do you create that beginning that pulls readers in? There are many time-tested strategies that work well such as beginning with a startling statement, question, quote, story, paradox or play on words. But these are just gimmicks if they're not used well. Readers can spot gimmicks like an ill-fitting suit. But if the strategies are central to the heart of your story, essay or poem; if they capsulize the issue, dilemma or intrigue that is to follow; if they send an arrow message straight to the minds of readers; then, they aren't merely gimmicks. They are effective, poignant beginnings that will not only lead readers into your work but do justice to the serendipity that will follow for readers who embark on your literary journey with you. Lead with powerful beginnings and readers will freely follow.

Writing by Ear

We often hear of talented musicians who "play by ear." In other words, they don't read sheet music. They create music by listening. It's also possible to "write by ear." This means listening to the sounds of your writing rather than focusing on structure, format and other rules of writing and English. You can write a technically perfect piece of writing, but it may sound flat to readers' ears. Language is very much like music in that it has cadence, rhythm, and sound effects such as alliteration and rhyme. If you can learn to listen to your writing rather than merely seeing it, you can learn a lot about your own writing habits and style and what makes writing effective. This is best accomplished through reading your work out loud. This allows you to hear your work more directly than a silent reading. What your tongue stumbles over, your readers will also stumble over. What flows smoothly off your tongue as you read aloud will also flow smoothly for readers. The sounds of words can produce many emotions and reactions. Pay attention, as you read your work aloud, to what emotions your words evoke in you. Then think about how these words will impact readers. Music moves through many moods as it progresses from softness to crescendo, and so does writing. Learning to listen to words and hear language in all its nuances will help you produce writing that is music to readers' ears.

Changing Your Writing

Writers must be willing to change their writing to meet the needs and demands of the publishing world or face not seeing their work in print. This begs the question, though, of just how far a writer should bend to accommodate the requests of an editor. As with most things, it depends. It depends on what the editor is asking, for what reasons, and how far it deviates from the writer's original vision. The irony of being a successful writer is that you must first believe in your own work. You must write as you believe you should write so that your work is a true reflection of you. However, you must also heed the advice of experienced, skilled people in the publishing world and be willing to consider the changes they suggest. How does a writer do both? The answer lies somewhere in the beginning of the writing process, not at the end. If you approach everything you write from your heart, write only what you care deeply about, and write as if it's the most important thing you will ever compose, then you will likely not be asked to change your work. The work will stand on its own and will sell itself. If you are asked, however, to significantly change something that you believe deeply in and feel that the suggested changes will compromise you as a writer, then don't do it. Knowing yourself as a writer is essential in sorting these things out. Changing for improvement is one thing. Changing for a sale is quite another.

Inspired Writing

Writers often hear that their writing must be inspired. It's generally understood that "inspired" means that the writing is original and exciting. I submit that inspired writing is writing that is born from pain and loss. It's that kind of writing that fills a deep hole left by the unthinkable, the unsurvivable, the unbearable. Inspired writing will help both writers and readers transform pain and loss into meaning. It will help soothe the loneliness of not being understood. If, as a writer, you can tap into that vast reservoir of personal pain and put something on paper that does justice to what you feel, then you have produced inspired writing. This is the kind of writing that makes you want to write because it has a universal purpose - to comfort those who suffer from the human condition. It's the kind of writing that readers want to get lost in because they find in it a salve that temporarily, possibly permanently, eases the wounds of their psychic pain. This kind of writing needs no awards, no justification, no critiquing. It exists separate from all that because it rises above the mundane concerns of the literary world and touches us in a place that is central to everything we know. It is all-knowing writing. It is writing we can't put down and dare not put down lest we miss the message we need so desperately to hear.

Natural Writing

Forced writing is language that feels tense and unnatural. It happens when writers don't trust their creative process and try to control it. If writing is allowed to flow naturally, like our thought processes, in a stream-of-consciousness pattern, it will feel natural and will read easily. It's a matter of physics - pushing vs. pulling. Forced writing involves pushing words into shapes and patterns that our critical mind tells us is "good writing." Natural writing involves letting the words pull us through a conduit of connected thoughts and insights that leads to discovery. It's hard to let go in this way and trust our seemingly unruly thought processes. After all, creativity is a beast that must be tamed, is it not? Ironically, it is when writers let go and let flow, without regard to rules and standards and expectations, that truly meaningful writing emerges. It is this pulling of words through our consciousness that allows the kind of honest, raw writing that moves readers. There can be nothing forced about creativity. It's rather a giving in to it, a surrendering, that transforms language from mere form to art form. Truly inspired writing comes from this place of trust and openness and it is available to every writer who is willing to let go.

Writing To Discover

Writing helps us see the world in new and surprising ways. It turns ordinary things into elements of wonder and it diffuses extraordinary things into common experience. The process of writing is an act of discovery. When we write, we go beyond the surface of our lives and delve into the subterranean landscape of our heart. This is where all wisdom resides. Creative endeavor is a path to that inner world. The great artist Pablo Picasso once explained it this way: "Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life." So, in losing ourselves in our creative pursuits, whether art or writing or music, we end up finding ourselves. We are able to pick up the detritus of human experience, dust it off, and see it again for the shining treasure it is. When writing, we are able to see life through a different lens, one that rises above the pettiness and focuses on the grander vision. Often, when writing, we are able to see things in surprising ways that give us unexpected insights into our own and others' situations. When pursued with intensity and focus, writing can deliver us from the sting of our realities and transform our moments into vessels for hope. So, never give up on writing. Never stop feeding your creative urge. It may be your only path to understanding what a remarkable gift resides inside you.

Detach From Your Writing

Getting attached to your words is the worst thing you can do as a writer. That advice may seem counterintuitive. After all, aren't writers supposed to bond with their own creations? It would seem so because you put so much effort into getting your writing just right that it only makes sense you would feel deeply connected to it. However, the danger of getting too attached to your words is that it makes you reluctant to change them, even if you're getting feedback that you need to change them. You may be so fond of a particular passage or aspect of your writing that, even in the face of feedback to the contrary, you continue to insist that it works when it clearly doesn't. So you tenaciously hang on to what you have created to your own detriment. What you should strive for instead is to be a perfect conduit for your creativity to flow through. Create your words, make them as perfect as you can. But then when they're done, let them go. Don't get attached. By maintaining a healthy psychological distance from your own writing, you'll be able to accept, digest and respond to feedback from others who may be telling you that your writing doesn't work, that you need to change something, that you don't have it quite right. It's only in detaching from your writing with a clear vision and an open mind that you are able to create your best work.

Write for Yourself

Writers are always taught to write for their audience. This is good advice because if you can write in a way that relates to your readers, you will be a successful and effective writer. In that sense, audience is everything. However, there is something to be said for the flip side; that is, writing for yourself. It's important, in fact critical, that you write what you want to write, what motivates you, what impassions you. Because if you don't care deeply about what you're writing, neither will your readers. If you can't lose yourself in the heat of your creativity, readers won't find themselves in it. So, in listening to those inner voices, you may have to buck conventional wisdom about what sells, what readers want, what's hot and what's not, and just write what turns you on. It is only in the committed discovery of self that writers are able to connect meaningfully with others. Don't worry about what all the prognosticators say about the publishing world. That's only a distraction. Just write what you feel, write it as well as is humanly possible, and send it out into the world. Because, ironically, it's what you so desperately need to say to yourself that readers so desperately need to hear. That raw, pure honesty of creation is what makes great writing and what makes writing for your audience have real meaning.

Writing With Effort

Writers we admire tend to write as if it's effortless. Their words seem to roll out perfectly every time they touch a keyboard or put a pen to paper. We like this type of writing, as readers, because it's effortless to read. Awkward, disjointed writing is a chore to read and is not a pleasant task for readers. But smooth, cohesive writing is a joy to read. The irony of effortless writing is that it takes a great deal of effort on a writer's part to achieve the illusion of effortlessness. Good writers don't strive for perfection, but rather for seamless writing - the kind of writing that conceals its own flaws. This requires tedious revision that attends to every detail. Much like a painter strives to have his brush strokes disappear within the painting so that the painting, when viewed, is a whole image, writers strive to have their syntax disappear into their prose. Readers don't want to "see" what techniques a writer is employing during the reading process. They want the techniques to be so smoothly woven into the fabric of the story or text that they are unaware of it. For writers, the work is about style, finish and polish; and to have a polished piece of writing, whether fiction or nonfiction, the writer must arduously exert the effort to sound "effortless."