There is a certain relationship that exists between and among writers, active in their craft. It is a common bond that is cultivated by working together to learn and to create art from experience. The relationship between teacher and student within the writing classroom is no different. I am fortunate to have learned just as much from my students as they do from me. We work together, artists all, to share our lives and our passion for telling stories that bring memory to life, to give voice to our most intimate experiences, to share them with each other and the world so that we might be able to understand a little more about ourselves, a little more about what it means to be human.
Writing is a process of discovery. EM Forster poses the question, “How do I know what I think until I see what I say.” My job as a writing instructor is to help students to make discoveries in their writing and, through the process of structured peer editing workshops and thoughtful revision, create works that communicate ideas about the world in which they live. Part of this process is also working with students who are struggling to find their voice or to become motivated to put pen to paper and create. It is at times like this when, as an instructor and fellow writer, I need to step in and help them to forget everything they think they know about writing. In these moments, I encourage them to tear down the walls of conformity, lose their inhibitions and draw pictures, make shapes, tell a story in images, write about the absurdity of writing or write “the worst story ever.” I have found that if I give students permission to fail it becomes far easier for them to try to succeed.
Writing is hard, especially for the passionate writer. We are tenacious in our demand for truth and beauty, together, a difficult relationship to manage; but, in the classroom, we are all writers and, in our attempts to create, we often fall short: the product does not always live up to the writer’s expectations. I like to share these moments with my students, to express to them the difficulty that all writers face, the time and attention it demands to re-create a moment where the reader will recognize the attention to detail and artistry of a well-placed metaphor, shouting “yes, yes, that is it, exactly!” That is our job as writers; but, in order to get there, we need to be given the freedom to experiment, the freedom to try, the freedom to fail.
As young writers attempt to negotiate this tenuous relationship between truth and memory, it is important to guide them through the process and create a forum for conversation about the craft, where they can talk openly about writing, as writers themselves.
