I got the feeling early on that Boice assumes there is no value in passive waiting, and somehow “mindless binges” are entirely unproductive. My reaction was, huh, really? And then I felt chastised for having used this method in the past. Whoops. I’ve had quite a few productive so-called mindless writing binges (both creative and critical papers) and walked away from them feeling invigorated. Certainly, my experience is by no means absolute; but to completely dismiss passive waiting as useless seems, well, arrogant and assumptive. It was this often pretentious tone coupled with the occasional psychobabble (reveling in “the experience of awakeness”) that left me with mixed feelings. It seems rather presumptuous to claim that there is a “correct” methodology for producing the most effective writing and that if we follow a set of “rules” then magically we will produce a higher quality product.
What’s wrong with impulsive writing? I kept returning to this question as I read. It seems to me that spontaneity (or binging) allows for surprise and the development of those surprises—shouldn’t we be surprised by our writing (whether creative or critical): an unexpected plot shift in a fiction narrative, a curious turn of phrase in a poem, a sudden realization or reconceptualization in a theoretical work. These happen, from my observations, through spontaneity, not regimentation (please feel free to contradict me, anyone). And certainly not in 15 minute writing increments. By attacking impulsive writing (what he deems at one point, “creative madness”) I feel that Boice is attacking the development of surprise in writing by suggesting there is a singular methodology to successfully achieve that quality. I simply can’t grasp the idea of writing in bits and pieces, here a little there a little. The first hour for me is usually crap and only after an hour do I really feel “in” a piece of writing.
I like the notion of active waiting as taking advantage of “odd moments” for mini-reflection, conceptual outlining, and piecing together ideas. But I found myself slightly confused by Boice’s argument at times. For one, there seems to be a very select physical locality on where active waiting can take place: at a desk, between classes, meditation, the edge of the bed, etc. (a specific writing site), but certainly not any activity associated with busyness (Boice cites making phone calls and cleaning). Why not? I, for one, enjoy busyness when I’m writing. I find it not an end to thinking, but a beginning. It is an outlet, rather than a hindrance, for creativity. During the writing process I regularly distract myself with busyness: I clean, I take walks, I eat, I go for a drive, I play with my kids. All the while I'm writing (did I just contradict my previous paragraph?). All these activities are stimulating because sometimes I can get too focused on the writing itself. I need my mind to wander during the binging. I need to create a mess, both on the page and off it. Perhaps I’m reading Boice wrong; maybe this is what he’s actually advocating, but it seemed to me that he was attacking purposeful busyness as a blockade to successful “mindful” writing.
Sometimes I like having a writing regimen; sometimes I like impulsively writing...I suppose what I don't like is having a process that is set in stone.
Ryan-- I love your defense of passive waiting here. I think it is important when writing is your work to find an in- and out- way for it to both consume you and be separate from you.I wonder how you apply this in the classroom? I'm sure that Boice would highly disapprove, but if you feel this passionately, I hope that you are encouraging your students to find their "drive" to write, their messy regimen.
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