Foreword
It's
a privilege to be able to write a foreword for Pat
Schneider's book. She seems to me the wisest teacher of writing
I know. For writers and would-be writers, she provides a lovely mixture
of concrete advice and subtle insights about attitude and feeling. It's
as though a tennis coach could tell you not only exactly how to stand
and move your body--but also how to feel and think and imagine yourself
so that the practical concrete advice bears fruit.
Schneider has a strong presence on the page. I feel
confident that she will win your trust--as she does mine--and make you
willing to take the kinds of risks that are needed for real progress
in writing. Her approach is all about trust--trust in the inherent talent
in people and trust in the power of writing as a process. Her book is
about three realms that inevitably intertwine for anyone who cares about
writing: writing, art, and our personal experience of life.
I can give a sense of the roots of this important book
by quoting the "Five Essential Affirmations" that guide her
whole approach to writing and the "Five Essential Practices"
that guide her in leading workshops for writers:
The Five Essential Affirmations
- Everyone has a strong, unique voice.
- Everyone is born with creative genius.
- Writing as an art form belongs to all people,
regardless of economic class or educational level.
- The teaching of craft can be done without
damage to a writer's original voice or artistic self-esteem.
- A writer is someone who writes.
The Five Essential Practices
- A non-hierarchical spirit (how we treat
writing) in the workshop is maintained while at the same time an appropriate
discipline (how we interact as a group) keeps writers safe.
- Confidentiality about what is written in
the workshop is maintained, and the privacy of the writer is protected.
All writing is treated as fiction unless the writer requests that
it be treated as autobiography. At all times writers are free to refrain
from reading their work aloud.
- Absolutely no criticism, suggestion or question
is directed toward the writer in response to first-draft, just-written
work. A thorough critique is offered only when the writer asks for
it and distributes work in manuscript form. Critique is balanced;
there is as much affirmation as suggestion for change.
- The teaching of craft is taken seriously
and is conducted through exercises that invite experimentation and
growth as well as through response to manuscripts and in private conferences.
- The leader writes along with the participants
and reads that work aloud at least once in each writing session. This
practice is absolutely necessary, for only in this way is there equality
of risk-taking and mutuality of trust.
If you have trouble believing these principles, you
might think the book is not for you. But I'd disagree and call that
a reason for reading. For I think she will convince skeptics--not by
arguing for the principles but by showing what those principles look
like in the flesh: in concrete writing activities, personal exploration,
and stories of how people can function in workshop groups.
Schneider keeps her focus on the main thing: writing;
taking the writer seriously as artist; insisting on the bottom line--good
work. But in harvesting the wisdom of a long career of brave work, she
does justice to the complex ways in which working on writing is more
than just trying to judge quality. Vexing questions always arise for
anyone who wants to work seriously on writing:
- Is writing private or public? So much comes out that
seems private--yet the medium seems essentially public. She does justice
to the two conflicting dimensions by exploring the essential need
that most writers have for privacy in order to do their best work;
yet also exploring the equally essential need for audience and work
with others.
- What about secrets? What is the role of truth in
a medium that invites fabrication and fictionalizing? Is writing a
kind of therapy? Art is not about "telling our secrets,"
she writes, "but it does have to be free to go wherever it needs
to go, and usually our pain comes out first." "A writing
group is not a therapy group--it is concerned with liberating the
artist in the person". "Subjects in themselves are not self-indulgent
or sentimental. The issue is how fresh, how true, how concrete and
vivid is the writing".
- What about the political dimension of writing? For
Schneider, "the issue is not whether our writing will be political.
If we are silent, our silence is political. If we write, our writing
is political." She insists that "the privilege of voice
carries with it a responsibility to speak for social justice"--and
her passionate commitment to writing has led her to direct writing
workshops far and wide: with women from low income communities in
a nearby city, with a community of nuns in Ireland, and in a school
of theology in Berkeley.
This book is particularly eloquent and helpful about
the common--I want to say universal--experience of difficulty or struggle
with writing. I particularly admire Schneider's remarkable wisdom here
because it was my own writing difficulties that got me interested in
writing in the first place. Schneider has valuable insights about the
fears that come up for most people not only about writing itself but
also about the struggle to find the discipline for a writing life.
But when I praise her book this way, I worry that some
readers might say, "But I’m not scared of writing. I write
regularly with no difficulty. This book has nothing for me." I
would give this book to just such a person--and not just because of
Schneider's shrewd practical suggestions for improving the writing,
even of confident writers. What's more important is that when she talks
about fear and struggle, she focuses on what I'd call the main theme
or force of the book: going deep. The book is above all about learning
to take the risk of going to the most powerful insights, memories, perceptions,
and feelings that one has (or rather, that one mostly doesn’t yet
quite have)--as a source of one’s most powerful words. When people
say, "Oh I'm not scared of writing at all and I write regularly
with no difficulty," I cannot help suspecting that they might be
missing the deeper risks (and the deeper satisfactions) that are central
to writing that really matters.
I'm particularly impressed at how much better a job
Schneider does than I've ever managed at describing concretely to people
how to work together in a workshop where everyone writes, shares writing
with each other, and--when appropriate--gives responses to each other.
She is brilliant at the difficult job of conveying all this on paper;
and I know, from some visits to her workshop in her living room in Amherst,
that these insights come from brilliant practice.
She's made an interesting rhetorical decision in her
section about writing groups: she presents the material in the form
of advice to someone who wants to set up a writing group or lead a writer's
workshop. By addressing leaders or potential leaders, she makes palpable
a crucial theme: groups for sharing and responding require wisdom and
firm leadership. Many people have found to their sorrow that it's no
good saying, "Let's get together and share our writing--and we'll
just see what happens." There are crucial guidelines and rules
of thumb that at least one person needs to make sure are observed. Otherwise
people are likely take advantage of each other, give feedback that’s
not helpful, and abuse each other’s privacy. I found myself moved
as I read her advice--especially because she gives it so often in mini-stories
of workshops and people she's worked with. Her theme here again is anti-elitist:
she insists that any dedicated person can lead a writers' group--as
long as they are vigilant at enforcing these guidelines of respect.
(She distinguishes the role of writing group leader from the role of
a workshop leader. A writing group leader is vigilant to keep the group
safe for the writing process. A workshop leader does that but also offers
experience in writing, editing, and seeking publication.)
Most classroom teachers could do a far better job if
they garnered the insights--and above all the respect for writers--that
she shows readers how to maintain. And most students in writing classrooms--whether
in high school, first year college writing courses, or MFA programs--would
have a much better time with their writing if they read this book. Perhaps
the essential compliment I can pay is that this book makes you want
to sit down and start writing.
