What is it about a blank page that
zaps any coherent thoughts once floating about in my head, turning them into
fog and fluff? Julia Cameron hits the nail on the head in an excerpt from her
book, The Right to Write; as she
says, “the blank page creates a sense of seriousness.…We forget the term ‘rough
draft’ and want everything to emerge as well-polished gems.” I have struggled with
this for a long time; writing always seems to draw out the perfectionist side of
me. Cameron stresses that writing is not intended as a cause of stress. It
should give us joy, not be the means “to self-doubt, to self-scrutiny in the
place of self-expression.”
According to Cameron, we were all
born with the ability to write well, savoring the power of words. However, academic
aspects of writing crush this spirit in many of us. The second an English paper
is assigned there is a collective groan. With a specific audience in mind, it
is important to watch the sneaky semi-colon and ellipses to make sure they do not
find a way into the middle of a sentence. Suddenly every sentence fragment is
glaring up from the paper, nearly shouting, “I’m missing my subject!” Or,
“Where’s the verb?” When confronted with paper, it is sometimes difficult to remember
what the difference is between “there” and “their” or whether “i” comes before
or after “e” when following a “c”. Before academia, it did not matter whether
everybody ate grandma (“Let us eat grandma!”) because a pesky comma went
missing. Now the pressure is on to save all the grandmas out there: “Let us eat, grandma!”
Papers returned with red marks all
over ruin the pride felt at completing an assignment. Instead, it becomes
important to follow the many confusing grammar rules to a T, follow standard Modern
Language Association (MLA) formatting, and keep that oh-so-important 4.0 grade point
average. This squelches the creativity out of students and soon they replace
belief in themselves with the belief that writing is painful and impossible. “As
a result, most of us try to write too carefully. We try to do it ‘right.’ We
try to sound smart.” This is the problem: it is impossible to write well when
trying too hard. It just does not flow. The title of Cameron’s second chapter
says it all: “Let Yourself Write.”
This short phrase is, for me, the
best advice Cameron gives on the subject of writing. The times when I force
myself to let go and just write are when some of my best pieces of work result.
My freshman year of high school, I had this one teacher who assigned journal
prompts each week. She would set us strict time limits for each of three prompts,
usually ten, fifteen, and twenty minutes. In so little time, I had to keep
writing constantly to complete the prompt. Ever since then, I have tried to
apply similar time constraints to my academic writing. When I stick to these
time limits, it is always much easier to write. I suddenly have to get
something down on paper and the spontaneity produces more interesting work,
without the stress usually associated with a paper.
Well, I actually let myself free
write, conquering the blank page. And I must admit, it feels pretty good.
Excellent responses here the past few weeks, keep going!
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