I’m undertaking a 1000-day reinvention project, blogging here daily to track my progress. In Wednesday Writing, I consider my writing practice and skills and how to improve upon them.
I’ve been feeling that even as my painting has soared with inspiration, my writing has stumbled forward with little energy or drive. The essays I’ve written feel like they are too long and too ponderous, too overly edited with ChatGPT’s help, and lacking in my own voice. I don’t even want to read them—although I usually love re-reading what I’ve written (a peculiar form of writer’s egoism).
I need to write more sparingly I think. I need to write less and say more. Writing coach Marion Roach Smith suggests using a list to do this.
A list? What kind of list? A list that is the entirety of the story you want to tell. Here’s an example:
One fall, a student brought to class a list of things he did not do that summer — sort of a reverse take on the old what-you-did-on-your-vacation school assignment. The list included all the normal things one does in the warm months. He did none of them, including putting out the patio furniture and connecting the hose. And about halfway through the list it became apparent to all in the room that what he did not do was commit suicide. He never said so, though he stated it clearly in his list.
In my case, the list would be a list of things men gave me that in itself tells the entirety of the story my memoir is intended to tell. There would be no essays, no chapters, no description of what happened and how I changed through this series of relationships beyond what’s in the list.
I’m going to try rewriting the memoir as a list. And then I’m going to go back and write the essays, but in my own way, without AI to help.