Becoming a transparent and hollow channel for the work

What would it look like if you just turned your brain off and wrote?

I based my upcoming writing class on a quote from an essay by Annie Dillard.

“I assume that, like any other meaningful effort, the ritual involves sacrifice, the suppression of self-consciousness, and a certain precise tilt of the will, so that the will becomes transparent and hollow, a channel for the work.”

This quote could be about anything. It could be about writing, or not drinking, or parenting, or making art. For Dillard, it’s about teaching a stone to talk.

What does it look like to become a channel for the work? What conditions do I need for that to be so? The considerations to write have been a major barrier for me. I often tell myself they have to be perfect and even then I will pull my body to the screen in dread. This is something I am working to shift.

But finding a way to mindlessly become a channel for the work sounds like a practice worth undertaking. Chances are if I feel that way, then it will resonate with you, my writing community. Apparently I was correct as the sign up list for my mindless writing class is growing by the day. And, there’s still time to join.

It’s hard to teach a one-time, two-hour class on specific craft elements. There’s only so much work we can do on prose, dialogue, character, plot, or pacing in two hours. So instead of going deep, we have to skim the surface and I struggle with that. I want to go deep. Ideally I want to lay in the wet grass still slick with morning dew and have you tell me everything you are struggling with in your story with no time limitation. I want to carry this conversation into the evening over dinner. We can make lasagna together. And, then after the lasagna is eaten and we have washed all the dishes, I want us to take our tea into the living room and I want to tell you all of my thoughts on releasing your character from their blocks and pushing the plot to new levels while I build us a fire. I think this daydream spans several seasons which further proves my point that in two hours, we just don’t have the time.

It’s much easier to go deeper on your characters or plot if we meet over several weeks or months—which is something I offer (likely not over lasagna but you never know), and would love to talk to you more about. Although it is scary to share your work or to ask for help, I am a friendly comrade in writing. Send me an email with details on your project and your challenges and I will schedule a time for us to talk.

But, back to teaching craft. It’s difficult to go very deep on the technical stuff but the foundation of beginning a writing practice and sustaining it is something that we can absolutely do together once a month. I don’t want to say easily because it may not be for you, but it is entirely possible that it could be with practice just like anything else. And we can also find ways to feel joy and not dread while doing so. Plus you can build a writing community. That is my intention for our monthly craft meet ups this year, which I’m still reimagining and renaming.

In preparation for my January class, I’ve been writing more. I’ve been working on my novel project but also a new short story which is a skill I am happy to dust off. Short story is my favorite form. It’s how my brain works. It’s what I’ve been trained to do. It feels good to be home. This story, about the woman investigating the collapse of a vertical farming tech start up and the consequences of telling the truth, is invigorating me. I haven’t figured it out entirely yet but I am open to writing until I do.

I’m excited for this new year and for what it means for my writing journey as much as what it could mean for yours. This is a year of more of the same good things I started last year. I’d like to continue to prioritize reading, move my body daily, write as much as possible, and continue to not drink. This year I’d like to begin to figure out the balance between farming and writing. I’m not sure what that will look like this year, my first full year doing both without the added barrier of full time employment off the farm. I was recently gifted a 1973 VW Beetle by Jared’s friend Mickey who is in his late 80s and said he’d like to see it restored in his lifetime. This is something I’d like to do for him. And coincidentally, I’m in need of a daily driver. If I were to name my big focus for the year, a resolution if you will, it is to continue to look towards writing to transform me and to keep meeting life with awe. Both have served me well thus far.

Some things to tide you over:

• If you know my spouse you will know that he can’t make it through a television show or movie without falling asleep. It’s just not in the cards. To get him to watch a show is not an easy feat. To get him to stay awake is pretty much impossible. However, we have been watching the multi-part series on the Bolton-based steeplejack Fred Dibnah with much anticipation for the next part.

• I am a devout follower of Kara Duval’s Range platform. It’s matches my desire to be both soft and strong. Conveniently, Kara has a special price for new members during the month of January that you can check out if you are interested (use the code HOME for half off your first month). I’m not paid to tell you this. I am just a huge fan. And the real reason I say any of this is that during one of her recent live classes, Kara played this song and I can’t stop listening to it.

• Playing in the background of my childhood new year celebrations was the Twilight Zone. Starting whenever we got home in the evening of December 31st and playing all day January 1st, we would mill in and out of the living room where Rod Serling would narrate the episodes which inevitably blurred together. The day was scented with the smell of pork and sauerkraut in the crock pot. My friend Andrew’s family had the same Twilight Zone tradition, so when Andrew and his wife had us over for breakfast this weekend we shared some of our favorite episodes. The irony is not lost on me that my favorite episode, A Stop at Willoughby, is about a worn out advertising executive who finds himself in an imaginary town that values slowing down. Andrew’s favorite, The Obsolete Man, is about a librarian who finds himself in a world where books and religion are outlawed by a totalitarian government. I am going to keep this show rolling in the background of my January, when I am not reading and writing that is.

Some images as parting gifts: