Reminds me of the story in the art of motorcycle maintenance in which the author recounts his struggle as an English professor to get undergrads to write. They had nothing to say and couldn’t write a word.
“Write about your town.” Blocked.
“Write about your street.” Blocked.
“Write about your house.” Blocked.
“Write about one wall of your house. “Blocked.
“Write about one brick in that wall of your house on your street.”
Unstoppable diarrhea of prose.
Sometimes narrowing the conversation to something concrete is useful to get things started.
haha, in the age before smartphones, I once prompted my creative writing students to write about whatever it is they stare at in their bathroom while they're pooping.
Reminds me of the story in the art of motorcycle maintenance in which the author recounts his struggle as an English professor to get undergrads to write. They had nothing to say and couldn’t write a word.
“Write about your town.” Blocked.
“Write about your street.” Blocked.
“Write about your house.” Blocked.
“Write about one wall of your house. “Blocked.
“Write about one brick in that wall of your house on your street.”
Unstoppable diarrhea of prose.
Sometimes narrowing the conversation to something concrete is useful to get things started.
haha, in the age before smartphones, I once prompted my creative writing students to write about whatever it is they stare at in their bathroom while they're pooping.
Great post (with itself a sympathetic narrator)