Balloons and streamers.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010 at 6:02AM The best writing lesson I ever received was also the simplest. It came in the English faculty lounge at Stratford High School in the winter of 1990. I was a substitute teacher at the time, having fouled up my application timing for readmission to UT after spending the fall semester abroad, watching The Alexei Sayles show and taking courses at Lancaster University.
The lesson came from a fellow substitute named Ann Ruff, I believe. At the time, she was dying of cancer. I mention this because back then I knew so few people who had fought cancer. Now I know way too many.
But to her lesson. She told me that a successful writer (I don't want to say "good") will always stop writing while he or she still has a little bit left to express. That it's actually detrimental to write until the mental ink runs dry, because your mind needs those leavings to stay engaged in the creative process.
Hands down, best writing lesson ever. I ignored it anyway, until I started working on What Happened on Smith Street. And I'll be damned if it doesn't work.
Step away from the computer or the journal or whatever. Go to bed. That idea you were struggling so hard to squeeze through your fingers the night before will flow like wine the next day.
Happy 200th journal entry. Thanks for sticking with me.
Reader Comments (3)
It's been a great 200 - enlightening, funny, educational, poignant. I got a WHOSS tattoo to celebrate.
Congratulations!!
8 Mile, shame on you! The tattoo should spell out the title in its entirety!