Sharing

This central act of giving is curiously neglected in most writing instruction. Otherwise people would have shared their writing just given it to another human being for the sake of mutual pleasure - as often as they gave it to a teacher for evaluation and advice. For most people, however, the experience of just sharing what they have written is rare. Many pieces of weak writing suffer more from the writer's not having really consented, deep down, to give her meaning than from whatever lack of skill she may have. That same person can write with considerable power and skill when she doesn't hold back at all, when she isn't ambivalent about yielding, handing it over for free.

There are many ways to share. But unless you have an arena designated for it (or can easily publish what you write, for sharing is really a way to publish), sharing takes courage and assertiveness. It means going up to someone and saying, "Can I read you something I've written? I don't want feedback. I just want you to hear it." Sometimes that's not easy, no matter how good the friendship is. Perhaps you forgot to include it in the marriage vows: "To love, honor, and faithfully listen to all writing." Sharing is easiest if you can meet regularly with a group of three or more others for the purpose. It's a kind of celebration. You will find it a great relief, when you get used to it, not to worry about their reactions or think about feedback. Of course, you will get a few stray spontaneous reactions, as at a poetry reading or performance: a chuckle at one passage, hushed silence at another, yawns when your writing is opaque for too long. But the reactions aren't the point. The point is that you are heard. It opens up a door for you and somehow helps you think of more things to write.

Sharing also means sending off copies to friends who live far away, but there's a special power that comes from meeting face to face and reading out loud what you have written. You may find the reading out loud frightening, but it is crucial. For there is a deep and essential relationship between writing and the speaking voice. It's complex and mysterious, but one thing is clear: to write with clarity and power requires an essential act of taking full responsibility for your words - not hedging, holding back, being ambivalent. Reading your words out loud is a vivid outward act that amplifies your sensation of responsibility for your words. That's why oaths and promises' must be spoken out loud to work best. "Repeat after me. . . ." When you only make marks silently on paper and don't make noises with your throat, it is possible to withhold some piece of your self, to keep your fingers crossed behind your back.

Reading your words out loud is scary, and many people invariably mumble or read too softly or too fast. We shrink from such blatant showing of our wares. But that is just what helps most. Therefore when you share your writing, you need to give your listeners permission to interrupt and tell you if they cannot comfortably hear and understand your words - permission to make you give your words. Reading your words out loud is push-ups for the specific muscle used in taking responsibility for your words.

Here are some additional benefits of sharing. It's an easy way to learn about writing. When you hear someone read a piece every week or two, someone no better than you, and you see her come up with a passage that is terrific - but she's using the same old ingredients that she and you have been struggling with week after week - sometimes you learn more about how to improve your writing than you learn from clear explanations of what is wrong with it or good advice about how to fix it, or inspiring lectures on the seven essentials of good writing. And you don't have to talk about it. You are just listening and learning by ear. Matters of tone and voice are particularly hard to talk about or teach. They are best learned through hearing what you like and imitating it, and hearing what you don't like and getting rid of it.