In Praise of the Humble Free Write
You might be stuck.
I’d like to ask you to consider the humble free write. Some folks have other names for it. Essentially, it is a time when you allow your pen or fingers to flow freely without thought about grammar, syntax, audience, organization, structure. It is less disorganized and more directed than a journal entry, but also more disorganized and less directed than a draft. Drafts put the pressure on us to write and to make sense. Free writes take that pressure off.
Recently, I advised a student to use free writing to close the distance between what she did on her paper and what she thought she was doing. In this case, the free write allows her one of the resources writers have to manufacture: distance from the subject. When the thoughts are on paper rather than a running narrative in one’s head, they can be carved into some sort of shape: in her case, a useful analytical paragraph or clear introduction.
The trick is this: you have to let go. When I free write, I have to completely close my eyes and let my typist take over. I have to ditch the filter from between my head to my fingers and let the thoughts come. I also have to remember to put that filter back, lest someone be on the business end of my wit.
This is tougher than one might imagine especially if the writing feels high stakes. While working on my second monograph Black Madness :: Mad Blackness, I became angry. I was angry at the reader’s reports. I was angry that I was in the hospital. I was angry at the hospital staff. Just angry and frustrated and tired. When I had some space, I free wrote using the prompt: “My name is Shea and I’m from New Rochelle and I just don’t understand. Why are you so mad? Like what are you so mad about?” Some of you may recognize this as part of the “Mad Rapper” skit from The Notorious B.I.G.’s Life After Death album. This prompt as silly and as nostalgic as it sounds allowed me to release the difficulty (with far more colorful language than the mad rapper on the skit) and then my concerns about the project itself. I made space for myself to let go, to feel what I felt, to validate those feelings, to acknowledge those feelings, and to separate the professional concerns from the others.
How long did that take? How long did I set my timer for? I would tell you, but it wouldn’t be useful. Your “let go time” or “free write time” has to strike a delicate balance for you. I needs to be not too much time such that you get bored and not too little time such that you don’t broach the actual subject you’re concerned about. And, it probably should not be untimed. The external tool of a clock gives you a sense of reprieve, which you’ll need if there is any emotion tied up in your “stuckness.”
The final step is to read your free write out loud. Using the words at the end of the mad rapper skit, I gotsta talk. I gotta TELL how I feel. I gotta talk about my life as I see it. This seems unorthodox. After all, many people may understand the process itself as the release. It is. And, it isn’t. The process of writing is one release mechanism for your emotions. Reading the words aloud allows you to absorb what is useful and leave the rest.
Take the meat and leave the bones.