I know not all of you are obsessive writers like me. You all are probably able to function somewhat normally, going through the day responding to circumstances without sudden flashes of supposed inspiration which sends you rushing up the stairs two-by-two to grab your laptop. You can probably watch movies without jumping up and frantically groping in the dark for a pen so you can scratch “fight for milk” on a napkin. You might even be able to look away from the computer screen when your spouse slides into bed next to you. It must be nice.

As for me, I love to write. So for my birthday my mother-in-law (a brilliant writer) got me a book called Writing on Both Sides of the Brain by Henriette Anne Klauser. The gist of the book is brilliant–she explains that basically all of our dread of writing stems from the fact that we are taught to write and edit simultaneously, rather than letting ourselves loose with words without worry for conventions, then going back later to edit and rework. (My problem is actually that I never, ever, go back to edit. My writing is plenty free, but could use some editing!)

But what is true of writing is also true of life. How many of us are terrified to actually risk doing something because we are afraid we won’t do it just right? She tells a fabulous story about a little boy who wants to write a story about a mouse and a motorcyle but he doesn’t know how to spell motorcycle, so he writes a story about a mouse and bike, but somehow when he’s done it wasn’t quite the same story he had in his heart. Sad! But so true. He was afraid of seeing his teacher’s red marks slashed across his paper, and was too insecure to ask how to spell the word. So he produced a less work, and in essence wasn’t true to what was in his heart.

I live like this! Ugh. How often do we feel that stirring in our hearts to do something, but we procrastinate or hesitate because we’re afraid how it will all come out. Klauser tells a story of a woman who decided that whenever a new opportunity came up, whether to learn how to change the oil in her car or to learn to dance the salsa, she would pretend that she was 8-years-old. Rather than fearing looking dumb, she insisted that kids were allowed to learn new things without fear or failure, so she would too. With the adventurous courage of an 8-year-old she would tackle the latest feat.

Finally, Klauser explained that brilliant Russian pianist Franzk Liszt produced not only Tarantella, Don Juan Fantasy, and Liebestraum (I am so ignorant I’ve never heard of these), but also more than 700 works, most of which were “uneven in quality, superficially composed or down-right dull.” The point? Even the greatest writers and composers spend the majority of their time writing…well…trash. Can you allow yourself to writer trash? Can you allow yourself to try something and do it poorly? Can you allow yourself to write for the world to see knowing that misplaced modifiers and dangling participles may be there as well? Yes, there’s a time for editing, but I dare say we live our lives doing a little too much editing and not enough time creating…or living. Be willing to write some trash. Leave the editing for later.

3 thoughts on “Write Some Trash!”

  1. Wow! Thanks for sharing this book and some of its insights! I agree with Kelli…I think I might have to find this book…even though I am about 3 years late with reading this blog post! HA! 🙂

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