If you've taken a class with me, you know that one of my goals as a writing instructor is to help writers get out of their heads and into their bodies when they write. It sounds pretty counterintuitive. Writing happens in the brain, right? When we put words on a page we usually hear them in our head first. The head is the place where we think, where we work out problems (or sometimes just ruminate), and where we have imaginary conversations with others. It’s where the neurons are firing. It’s where we conjure old memories and where our dreams take place when we sleep. The head is the center of our imagination, and so it seems like the place we need to be when we access our writing.
I was browsing Instagram a few weeks ago when a video popped up on my feed. It wasn’t a video I was familiar with - who knows how the algorithm works - but it struck me as the perfect illustration for why it’s important to let the body, rather than the head, lead the writing.
The video is only 3 minutes long, so give it a watch:
It’s titled “More Intuitive Art Tips,” so this artist, Lina Forrester, obviously thinks deeply about ways to connect to the body. In the video the artist begins by dividing a blank page into smaller squares using blue tape. She then instructs: “draw over the whole thing without lifting your tool.”
When she first began drawing according to those instructions, it looked liberating. She wasn’t overthinking where the lines should be drawn, she was just following her body wherever it wanted to go, drawing without picking up her pen. I was drawn in by the freedom in that; it looked relaxing and just plain fun.
But then, in the span of seconds, my head started talking. It started making up stories about how it was all going to go:
Oh my goodness, does she know what she’s doing?
Those lines do not look nice at all. Is this going to come together in the end?
That kind of looks like a mess to me. Maybe she should put a little bit more thought into where she’s drawing.
Then it dawned on me: I recognize that voice. It’s the same voice I hear when I write from a prompt or start a new essay or stare at a blank page that I want to fill with words.
I've been writing for awhile now, and I have a lot of my own ego and identity tied up in what makes me a "good" writer. I have expectations. I know what I’d like to sound like. I have an idea of what it means to sound like myself. I have an idea of what I think “good” writing is. I’m invested in others thinking I’m skilled.
So here’s what that voice sounds like when I’m writing:
Why did you use that word? That word isn’t literary. This is starting to sound like a beach read.
or: This sentence is too serious. Are you trying to bum everybody out?
or: This has gone from highbrow to lowbrow. Now it can’t make up its mind. What’s your audience for this anyway?
or: I wish this sounded more like [fill in the blank of whatever writer I’m currently admiring]
Those kinds of messages begin to stop me in my tracks. All of a sudden I’m editing, overthinking every word. I am definitely not letting my pen race all over the page, led by my body, free, liberated. Unwilling to sit inside the messy middle, I’ve raced to the end and decided exactly how things are going to turn out. And then I’m paralyzed.
At the end of this video, the artist is done with her work. She removes the blue tape and we see the finished product. It’s quirky and full of character and the lines that were drawn with abandon fit beautifully into the rest of the piece. It’s unmistakably her.
So I’m taking this lesson into my writing practice. How can we all let the body lead, when those critical voices in our heads are so loud? I know that for me, the less time that I spend listening to that voice, the more often I am surprised by my work, the more often I take chances, and — I’ll say it — the more I enjoy the practice of writing.
What, for you, could be the writing equivalent of letting yourself draw all over that piece of paper, led only by your body, without wondering what the finished product might be? What might you create if you let your body lead?
Coming up in October
There are a lot of opportunities to write and think about the body with me in October. I’m teaching a mini version of my Writing the Body workshop (online) as a part of Jean Gray Mohs’s OBJECT AS VESSEL/PROCESS AS CATHARSIS exhibit in Greensboro, North Carolina.
What does it mean to have a body? How can we find language for the experience of living in our body? In this generative workshop we will use writing exercises and prompts to begin to grapple with these questions. This class will also offer a way to practice a more embodied writing and reading experience. This seminar is open to adult writers of all experience levels, even those who don't call themselves writers.
The workshop takes place on October 24th from 6:00-7:30pm ET on Zoom, and the cost is $25 sliding scale. Register here.
And don’t miss OBJECT AS VESSEL/PROCESS AS CATHARSIS taking place at the Greensboro Project Space October 16th-28th. There are a variety of interesting activities included in the exhibition, as well as some fantastic visual art.
On October 9th I’m taking part in an in-person panel curated by playwright Deonna Kelli Sayed in support of her new solo show American Body. The panel, called American Bodies, will feature writers and thinkers that are all contemplating living in different bodies in modern day America. Please join us! Registration is free.
What I’m writing: The reception for my July essay A Wound in the Shape of Your Words blew me away. Twelve readers decided to upgrade their subscription to paid. The post received 1.44K views (!!) so far. More than fifteen readers emailed me to let me know that the essay had impacted them, or that they’d shared it with a friend, or that it helped them put words to something previously indescribable.
Thank you so much for reading my work. That kind of reception to an essay is rare and so appreciated. I am still basking in the glow.
What I’m reading: I usually feature nonfiction but this month I have to make an exception for the short story collection Good Women. I met North Carolina-based writer Halle Hill at the PEN America Hackathon in June and the organizer of the event mentioned that she had a book coming out in September. I am so glad I pre-ordered Good Women, because writers, it is a gorgeous collection. The book has already received a starred Kirkus review and a blurb in People Magazine, so it doesn’t need my endorsement, but I promise you’ll want to sit with every story, and you’ll think about the rich, complex characters for days. It is urgent, lively and deeply southern. Check out the book, and catch Halle on the second half of her book tour - it runs through November.
What I’m watching: I am so thankful to the hardworking writers who stood on the picket lines for 148 days during the Writer’s Strike. This week we got word that the strike has finally ended. A rising tide lifts all boats, and the more opportunities we have for writers to publicly proclaim that writing is valuable and should be fairly compensated, the more people will begin to listen. Once production resumes I am really excited for the return of Abbott Elementary.
Until next time,
Allison
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You are reading the intangibles, by writer and creative writing instructor Allison Kirkland. This publication is geared toward writers of memoir and creative nonfiction and the people who love them.
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