Writing exercise 6
The exercise is in several parts:
1. First, write about that for fifteen minutes- or for 250-350 words- without worrying too much about form. You can share this bit, but you don’t have to. This isn’t for anyone else to see. This is for you to work out what you really think. While you do this, I want you to be alert to any time you’re starting to add caveats, or soften your conviction. Nobody is going to shout at you for thinking a thought, even an uncomfortable one. I promise.
2. Next, go back through what you’ve written and take out every instance of ‘I think’ or ‘it seems to me’ or other pieces of semantic throat-clearing. What matters isn’t that this is what you think. That’s clear from context. What matters is what’s true. And if you are uncomfortable presenting your opinions as truth, well, so am I. That’s the point of the exercise.
3. Next, look at what you’ve got, and rewrite it as one or two sentences. That’s a maximum of 150 words. If you think you can get away with hedging and woolly thinking by adding sub-clauses, I see you because I am you. Don’t.
4. Last, if you can, rewrite it as one sentence. Absolute maximum 50 words.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Moving to the country:
(first draft written longhand)
Fuck the cities; no, that’s not right. I was fucked in the cities; nope, that’s not exactly it. I ran away from the city; getting closer. The forest healed me; true but cliché and non-causal. Shit, this is more complex than I thought.
It is impossible to recall the feelings I had the year before the move. But they were messy. I usually say 'it was a bad time in my life' and people nod. They don't inquire about details. From years on now, I rarely do either. Was I burned out living in the city? Or did the city have anything to do with it?
The truth is stranger.
I think I told you about how I got my house and land. Many years ago, I pulled a gunshot victim out of a drug deal gone bad. Got a tourniquet on him, and got him to a hospital. He was a complete stranger to me at the time. Then many years later, after he made several millions in tech stocks. He looked me up and gave me a large monetary gift. Thus the land and the house. It was pure luck. Also, it saved my ass.
Yeah, it sounds like a bad movie plot. The karma of a young drug addict. Healed by the Douglas Fir Forest, as an old man. The cities burned blinding bright in his life. Until they didn't. But mostly it was undeserved privilege. I feasted on the city for 58 years. Ate too much. Got clean and sober multiple times. Then defeated and exhausted, moved to the country.
......
(second draft, on computer)
Moving to the country:
The Douglas Fir Forest healed me. You can be a punk for only so long. The city burns blinding bright and burns out. Occasionally luck and privilege come together. It knocks you on the head, and says 'Pay Attention'. It was a gift. Who cares if I deserved it. Every day I do a Morning Forest Walk About. Up the old logging road to sit on a stump older than my grandfather. I think 'What the fuck', this is some kind of magic. Then the crows yell at me for the nuts in my pocket.
......
(shorter)
crow wisdom
“Give me those nuts you have in your pocket, and I’ll tell you how to survive all this."
*Nuts placed on an old stump.*
“Fly in flocks, make a lot of noise, don't back down, remember everything."
.........
(two sentences)
The Douglas Fir Forest Abides.
The light green of new needles,
The darker green of last year’s,
The deep forest green of years past.
.....
The exercise is in several parts:
1. First, write about that for fifteen minutes- or for 250-350 words- without worrying too much about form. You can share this bit, but you don’t have to. This isn’t for anyone else to see. This is for you to work out what you really think. While you do this, I want you to be alert to any time you’re starting to add caveats, or soften your conviction. Nobody is going to shout at you for thinking a thought, even an uncomfortable one. I promise.
2. Next, go back through what you’ve written and take out every instance of ‘I think’ or ‘it seems to me’ or other pieces of semantic throat-clearing. What matters isn’t that this is what you think. That’s clear from context. What matters is what’s true. And if you are uncomfortable presenting your opinions as truth, well, so am I. That’s the point of the exercise.
3. Next, look at what you’ve got, and rewrite it as one or two sentences. That’s a maximum of 150 words. If you think you can get away with hedging and woolly thinking by adding sub-clauses, I see you because I am you. Don’t.
4. Last, if you can, rewrite it as one sentence. Absolute maximum 50 words.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Moving to the country:
(first draft written longhand)
Fuck the cities; no, that’s not right. I was fucked in the cities; nope, that’s not exactly it. I ran away from the city; getting closer. The forest healed me; true but cliché and non-causal. Shit, this is more complex than I thought.
It is impossible to recall the feelings I had the year before the move. But they were messy. I usually say 'it was a bad time in my life' and people nod. They don't inquire about details. From years on now, I rarely do either. Was I burned out living in the city? Or did the city have anything to do with it?
The truth is stranger.
I think I told you about how I got my house and land. Many years ago, I pulled a gunshot victim out of a drug deal gone bad. Got a tourniquet on him, and got him to a hospital. He was a complete stranger to me at the time. Then many years later, after he made several millions in tech stocks. He looked me up and gave me a large monetary gift. Thus the land and the house. It was pure luck. Also, it saved my ass.
Yeah, it sounds like a bad movie plot. The karma of a young drug addict. Healed by the Douglas Fir Forest, as an old man. The cities burned blinding bright in his life. Until they didn't. But mostly it was undeserved privilege. I feasted on the city for 58 years. Ate too much. Got clean and sober multiple times. Then defeated and exhausted, moved to the country.
......
(second draft, on computer)
Moving to the country:
The Douglas Fir Forest healed me. You can be a punk for only so long. The city burns blinding bright and burns out. Occasionally luck and privilege come together. It knocks you on the head, and says 'Pay Attention'. It was a gift. Who cares if I deserved it. Every day I do a Morning Forest Walk About. Up the old logging road to sit on a stump older than my grandfather. I think 'What the fuck', this is some kind of magic. Then the crows yell at me for the nuts in my pocket.
......
(shorter)
crow wisdom
“Give me those nuts you have in your pocket, and I’ll tell you how to survive all this."
*Nuts placed on an old stump.*
“Fly in flocks, make a lot of noise, don't back down, remember everything."
.........
(two sentences)
The Douglas Fir Forest Abides.
The light green of new needles,
The darker green of last year’s,
The deep forest green of years past.
.....