I was recently at a dinner gathering where I wound up engaged in conversation with a teacher. She was an English teacher, she said, she taught children how to write. She got very interested when she learned I was a writer, and asked how I dealt with my writer’s block.
First I was amused that she assumed I got it. There was none of this “do you ever have trouble writing? How do you manage that?” No, I was a writer, therefore I got writer’s block.
In my younger days (read: teenager) I was so arrogant as to think that I didn’t get writer’s block. Now I realize that I do, just like any other writer (probably) only I don’t notice it. And this is how I explained it to the teacher at dinner:
I have many projects going on at the same time. I have my writing. I have my comics. I have a videogame I am making with my brother. And just in the writing division I usually have several stories going on at once, all in different stages. Basically, when I sit down to write, if I don’t have the creative juices for one project, I simply move on to another, and another. And because of the sheer number of projects on my plate, chances are I’ll have some ideas for one of them. (More often than not, however, I have more ideas for more projects than I possibly have time for, but if I start complaining about that people tend to get angry and throw things at me.)
The teacher seemed pleasantly surprised by this solution. She explained that her problem was getting children motivated to write. She had them write a story a week, she told me. Sometimes it was difficult to motivate them.
“Ah,” I said, smiling. “I see…”
And from there the conversation derailed onto other topics, and I didn’t get the chance (perhaps fortunately so) to point out the critical error in the teacher’s system: she was engaged in teaching children how to write, whereas I was someone who loves writing. These children were probably not writers, and if they were, I could think of few tortures worse than being assigned to write a story every week. Certainly it would kill any desire I had to be a writer.
Her problem, I think, runs much deeper than simply motivating children to learn to write (which is I think on the whole a Very Good Thing). It is grounded, I believe, in the rigidity of our educational system, and the catastrophic way it fails in the areas of creative thinking.
Were I in her place I would not have my students write stories at all. I would tell them to write, to practice writing: write letters, write notes, keep a diary. That is pure unfettered practice. Anyone can learn to write well enough to keep a diary. And then I would tell them this:
Guess what, writing isn’t just for writing down what has happened, so you’ll remember it later, it’s also for writing down things that haven’t happened. Or things that’s can’t happen. It’s for writing down things you made up. And if you like that, if you find it fun to write down your secret dreams and ideas, that’s great. You should totally do that instead of writing a boring old letter. And you know, if you don’t feel like sharing it with anyone, that’s fine. You only have to show me if you want to.
And then I expect they would all go home and play videogames instead of writing. At least, the ones who didn’t want to write would. The ones who wanted to write would already be off and running.
There’s no teaching a child who doesn’t want to learn what you’re teaching. But it is terribly easy to spoil a subject a child likes by making it too rigid and forced. It is better on the whole, I believe, to encourage children in the areas that they select to be interested in, because that is really where a good teacher can make a difference. Not in dragging the reluctant student kicking and screaming to mediocrity, but in providing the curious mind the tools and tips it needs to reach truly great heights.
Of course, that is not how our school system works—or, in certain cases, doesn’t. I don’t think I’d get very far as a teacher.
What I good thing I like writing stories so much.
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Last week’s Radio Grimbald episode was Sandals and Sword, tomorrow I’m editing together Episode 4: The Man in the Chest. Also this week, I embark on painting the final pages of Angeldevil, which I have been working on since 2004. The comic usually updates weekly, but I’m taking a break from posting while I finish the comic. However, there are eight whole volumes up on the web, so now would be a good time to catch up if you haven’t already.
I have finished the first draft of the first story in the second volume of Bouragner Felpz stories, so that is exciting. Unfortunately I’ll have to wait to write even more new material until after I finish publishing the backlog of the Volume I stories.
Oh, and there’s the videogame project, which has up until now existed mostly as pieces of concept art and character stats. However, as my brother is coming along in his programing of the actual game, I thought it was high time I started working on the script. I have never written in script form before, and I’m sure I’m getting all the shorthand wrong. That is okay. This script will only ever be seen by my brother and myself. One of the joys of self-publishing.
I could go on about all the projects I have on my plate, but that would probably induce me to whine about the lack of hours in the day in which to realize all the ideas bouncing around inside my head, and then you would start throwing things at me and…
Yes, better to stop it here, and say that the one last project I’m working on is the Making Covers: Pure Text entry, which should be coming later this week.
Until then,
—Goldeen