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 Fiction Editor, Alan Ackmann , recommends one of favorite books about writing, Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird.
Many people I know can’t remember when they decided to become writers, but almost all of them remember when they realized what writing could be—when it transformed from escapism into a way to understand, even endure, the things they considered important. For some writers, a gifted teacher showed the way. For others, an illuminating book. For me, it was a bit of both: I got my first real clue about writing in high school, when I read Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott . Those of you familiar with Lamott’s spiritual writing, most notably her fine book Traveling Mercies, have already encountered her wry sense of humor and unflinching honesty. Bird by Bird takes this same compassionate worldview and applies it to writing. Many chapters seem like modifications of classroom lectures, but it is incorrect to view this book as a collection of lesson plans, as it feels more like something delivered from a front porch than from a podium. That’s because Bird by Bird is as much a meditation on the life of writing as the craft. Lamott devotes a great deal of attention to describing the frustrations of the writing process, and how to overcome them—which is one of the hardest things to do in art. The best way to dramatize these frustrations is to explain the book’s title, which references a time her little brother, then in gradeschool, put off a report on birds for several weeks, until (and stop me once this gets familiar) he found himself at the kitchen table surrounded by a stack of books the night before the paper was due. The enormity of the task was paralyzing until his father placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, saying “bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird.” This story introduces one of Lamott’s central claims about writing—that it is much less terrifying if imagined as a series of short assignments rather than a single huge one. Elsewhere in the book, Lamott discusses how writing is about paying attention to details, and understanding which stories are worth telling. She talks about having the courage to write honestly about things although your honesty might hurt someone, and she talks about the importance of not being jealous when your friends find success before you do—as they somehow inevitably will. She talks about writing a present, and why writing from the hope of getting published is, in the end, not that good of a reason to do it. And all of it’s good advice.
None of these things, of course, have much to do with the “words on a page” sense of writing, but they have everything to do with getting yourself to a point, as a writer, where you can actually write. The guiding principle through Lamott’s book is that, with patience and the proper frame of mind, good writing will come. She believes, as I do, that everyone has a story to tell, and that one of the most challenging but worthwhile things you can do as a writer is get out of your own way, giving yourself permission to make mistakes, and knowing that since no one sees your first drafts anyway you can always fix them later. When I first read that advice, I couldn’t appreciate how wise it really was; I was just thrilled to have someone tell me it was okay if I sucked (because I did), since I’d get better. And, with time, I did. And I think that’s the charm of Bird by Bird. In an age where much talk of writing is reduced to academized, theoretical discourse (and I’m guilty of that one much more than I’d like), hack-and-slash workshop sessions, or grim reflections on the unforgiving harshness of the business, it is refreshing to find a book that is so, well, nurturing.
The good/bad news, of course, is that nurturing never gets old. Like I mentioned, I first read this book when I was a teenager, and I must have read it a half dozen more times between my freshman year of high school and my senior year of college. And while I hadn’t cracked the spine since graduating until I sat down to write this review, I’m glad to attest that her advice remains relevant. I’m working on a novel at the moment, and as many of you know there are times in the process where it goes so well you can’t get over how much you have to say, and times you want to hit delete on the whole friggin’ thing. I’ve been drifting into the later phase recently, but after rereading several chapters of Lamott’s book this evening I felt much better about my place in the process. Amid the solitary highs and lows and struggles, it’s comforting to know that my experience is not unique. So check it out. It worked for me—I hope it works for you. Anybody else have any favorite writing books? Previous Articles:
Alan Ackmann, Relief's Fiction Editor, received his MFA in fiction from the University of Arkansas and teaches at DePaul University. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in McSweeney’s Quarterly Concern, Clackamas Literary Review, Louisiana Literature, Ontario Review, and elsewhere. He is a former fiction editor of The Evansville Review and was a Tennessee Williams Scholar at the 2007 Sewanee Writer’s Conference. Find out more at www.alanackmann.com.
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