Structure Discovered
The structure of a creative work is discovered, not imposed. Consider the architect’s mantra, “Form follows function.” A skyscraper exists because of land limitations, population density, and the nature of business relations; its inherent qualities (its purpose, its limitations) distinguish it from a bungalow or a Carnegie library. Likewise each piece of prose has a unique being—a focus, an exploration, a heartbeat. We don’t know when we start if our subject has sharp corners or curves, if it’s solid or fluid, if it needs many compartments or just one. We discover the container that will hold our material as we discover the material. How distressing! Particularly when writers set out on longer projects, they want—even need—a structure to help them get going. But nothing is more deadly to creativity than a strict plan. An outline, a story-board or any scheme will only serve a creative writer so long as he…
On Length
I’ve been surprised by how many beginning writers have a strange notion that whatever they’re writing—say, a chapter or short memoir or essay—must be certain length—say, twenty pages—and get tied in knots when their writing doesn’t conform. Ironically, everyone’s assumptions about the proper length for a piece are different. Where do these ideas come from? And why? I suspect these assumptions have their origins in twelve-plus years of schooling, during which every bit of writing comes with page expectations. Our five-paragraph themes had to be three pages long. Our college essays had to present our response to certain texts within twelve pages. When I taught creative writing at a seminary a few years ago, I was amazed at how many times my students asked me how long their assignments had to be. “As long as they need to be,” I answered repeatedly. In the freewheeling world of creative adulthood, guidelines…