 |
WaterBrook Press
Colorado Springs 2014
|
Shortly before moving to England for
what I thought would be a year (it turned out to be half that), I
signed up for a book review service that promised that so long as my
Kindle was charged I would not be without something to read. I
received (and reviewed) one e-book and then eagerly went to claim a
new title. Seeing a book by Robert Benson on the list, I knew that no
other book would do. The only problem? Benson's book was not
available in e-format. I had to wait until my return to the States to
read Benson's latest.
Robert Benson is a reader's writer. He
shares his experiences and insights in a gentle, conversational style
that I find poetic. There is an authenticity there that makes his
genuine Christian witness shine (all the more since he's not trying
to “witness”). At least, that was what I found in earlier titles
of his that I had read (The Echo Within and Between the Dreaming and the Coming True), and I was not deceived in thinking
that Dancing on the Head of a Pen would be similar.
Dancing is both a reflection and
a “how-to” guide for the aspiring (or discouraged) writer; not a
“follow these five simple steps and you'll be putting out a book
every six months!” guide, but a “this is what has worked for me;
maybe something here will resonate with you.” While Echo and
Dreaming communicated (at least to this reader) Benson's
contemplative spirituality, Dancing witnesses to his inner
(and to some degree, outer) life as a writer. As an aspiring
(but disorganized) writer myself, I found solid guidance here. It was
especially encouraging to me that the same things that intimidate me
(like the sheer whiteness of a blank page) were familiar to Benson.
And the same siren calls that would lure me from my appointed task
continue to find their way to Benson's Tennessee home. I was also
pleased to be confirmed in my cut-and-paste approach to putting a
text together. (Benson uses an X-Acto knife; I use whatever scissors
are around.)
Taking a page from Graham Greene (!),
Benson set a daily goal of writing six hundred words: a quota I can
just about imagine imposing on myself. Through years of journaling
(another practice he strongly recommends), he learned what times of
day were better for him to tackle which stages of a project. I loved
his metaphor of the three hats: the artist's beret; the faded
baseball cap for the grunt work of refining and rewriting; the fedora
for handling the business aspects of publishing. Wisely, he warns the
writer not to multi-task when it comes to writing and refining: You
can only wear one hat at a time.
The most surprising advice I received
from Dancing on the Head of a Pen was the rather strong
discouragement from talking too much about one's writing project.
There's a double risk involved when a writer gets a little too chatty
about his or her next book: being talked out of writing it at all
(especially if the reason for talking is to find encouragment for the
project—or the idea behind it), or saying everything that ought to
have been written, and finding, when pen hits paper, that the words
themselves have been drained dry in the telling. This also relates to
the writer's need for silence—and for its opposite: reading the
developed work aloud to an audience, as a way of recognizing where it
does or does not hit the mark.
Several of my take-aways from Dancing
on the Head of a Pen are destined to appear among my New Year's
Resolutions. If you are an aspiring writer, I do not doubt that you
will find the practical wisdom that can help you refine your skills
or find your voice. Better yet, you will be moved and inspired in
your calling.
No comments:
Post a Comment