Denise, November 2005
“Expression is the need of my soul.”
Archy the cockroach, from Archy and Mehitabel
By Don Marquis
I used to think everyone should write; that everyone had a story to tell and passionately held beliefs to express. I have rethought that opinion somewhat. Most people should write. For some people, their gifts just lay elsewhere, in the visual or musical arts. It is just the opportunity for self-expression that is necessary. And while I don’t support censorship, there are some writers, Ann Coulter and Brett Easton Ellis come to mind, whose thoughts are so toxic that the public dumping of them seems hazardous to human life.
Then there are those who say they can’t write. I had a friend who claimed, despite a high school education and a sharp mind, that she could not write, not even a letter to a friend. We worked on this problem for some years and I came to believe that for her and others who “can’t write” the obstacle is that there are so many things that they feel they cannot express: things that are unladylike, or impolite, or secret, that the weight of these inexpressible thoughts clog the conduits from brain and heart to paper. Many people find it hard to start because they keep rejecting one beginning sentence after another. I think the best way to write is to simply pour out thoughts and ideas and quotes and facts onto the keyboard and then to sort through them, choosing the most coherent, the most relevant ones to construct the piece.
To those people who think they can’t write, I say – try. Stories abound: the drama of early family life, the trauma of adolescence and coming of age, the romance of young love, and the anguish of middle aged-letting-go of dreams are shared by all. Some people are more sensitive to these experiences and can recall and relate them easily, others may need years to process what they learned when young. But most of us, at one time or another, formulate a story of our own and feel a need to tell it. Many people in their retirement years will compose a family history or a story of their youth or their experience in the war or the way they met their spouse. They will write down their thoughts and memories for their grandchildren. Oral history projects go out to senior citizens and try to capture on tape their recollections of earlier times. Newsweek magazine has a feature called “My Turn,” and similar essay features in Good Housekeeping and other magazines draw out those stories. c runs a small Sunday feature called “Life as Haiku” in which people try to distill their experience into a few words. They are always wonderful.
Listen to other people’s stories. Interviewing was my favorite part of reporting. When I was a stringer for a local paper, I would hear of someone who had an odd hobby, had returned from an exotic place, had had an adventure of some sort or a talent and I would go to see them. I would let them ramble, telling their story their own way until they came to that perfect detail, that amazing coincidence, that startling insight I could use to build the article on.
I used to love to visit nursing homes and ask about the early memories of 80-and 90-year-olds. They would recall farm lives, dances, favorite foods, and beloved pets. The elderly are rich in memories, visions and wisdom, and often more willing to share and to be the focus of attention that their middle aged children. And even those who were memory-impaired would often be better able to remember events of 70 years ago than what happened that day.
I believe all writing is story. Even expository writing has some kind of story; perhaps the story of how the author came to take an interest in his subject, or how certain facts were discovered. Even a grammar book tells the story of how language is ever changing and growing. Annie Dillard manages always to tell a story in the midst of a great deal of scientific information. A great speech is a story. Perhaps the story is, “I come here today for some reason…” or “You have brought me here because you, the audience, want something from me.” Or “There is something I believe in and think you should too.”
Use your story to advocate for what you believe. Admen and PR practitioners know the value that story holds for persuasion. One of my favorite TV ads has a cat who gets into mischief in the home and tries to blame the dog. The dog gets even by taking a Polaroid picture of the cat to show the owner when she arrives home. This is a whole plot.
Expository writing can create a story by constructing a myth. The Bush administration’s myth of Iraqi weapons of mass destruction changed the course of a nation. Their myth of, “We the good versus the axis of evil” was used to appeal to the American ego and to detract from reality. A Bush aide spoke scornfully about the opposition as “reality-based” as opposed to their creating their own reality. Myths are powerful and have their uses in illuminating unconscious motivations and strivings and can be inspiring. But when the power of myths is used to inspire to mindless patriotism or a willingness to trust and follow blindly, and when they distract from injustice, incompetence and chicanery, they are counter-productive and dangerous.
The power of words is undeniable. Uncle Tom’s Cabin was a major influence in the eventual rejection of the institution of slavery, Silent Spring birthed the environmental movement, The Feminine Mystique changed the lives of women. Uncle Tom’s Cabin was fiction, Silent Spring, a scientific treatise, and The Feminine Mystique, a polemic. But all had a story, all exposed or brought forth facts and portrayed experiences that had been unseen or unheard by many people. The three books brought these issues to light and air and began the healing of serious social problems. All were written by people who were passionate about what they wrote.
If you have story and passion, your writing will be good. People will say they want facts to form an opinion on issues but, in my experience, the presentation of facts rarely changes minds. Facts must be given within the framework of one human being’s experience and emotions. Good writing must connect writer and reader, and call forth the humanity of both.
As in Plato’s cave allegory, the person who sees beyond and glimpses a richer, truer reality can return to tell the cave dwellers what he has seen. You can be that person. You may not be taken seriously at first, but as in the case of the authors of these books, you would eventually prevail. Their visions and insights were scoffed at for a while, but came to be accepted, and changed the world.