The idea to start a blog came to me after attending a writing workshop in New York City this summer. Six or seven women gathered in a garden in midtown Manhattan. The leader gave us prompts and five or ten minutes to write. Each time I heard the prompt I faced a moment of white panic in my mind. Would anything come? But then I’d glance around the circle, see the other women bent over their pads scribbling away, and as if being caught up in a tide, my head would drop, my pen would start to move and before I knew it, the time would be up. As each woman read what she came up with I was amazed. Each was a gem, small, bright and glittering.
I was so impressed by what could be accomplished that I tried the same thing at home. I wrote down a series of prompts on index cards and put them in a stack face down on my writing table. Each morning I’d select one, set an egg timer for ten minutes and write. The results? Let’s just say, nothing worth sharing. Why didn’t it work, I wondered? I had all the ingredients: A prompt, a time limit, pen and paper. All the ingredients except one: the group. What I needed to complete the process was a small group who would listen to what I had written the moment it was completed; that is to say, before I had a chance to decide I hadn’t come up with anything worthwhile, the writing had gone nowhere… fill in the blank with the disparaging comment of your choice. A blog, I decided, would be a way to recreate the magic. I have my timer running right now. I have four minutes left to finish this entry. And now I have an audience, too — albeit an invisible one, whose members I know only as a little line bending up and down in valleys and peaks that I can view on my “blog statistics” page.
As a writing teacher I know the magic of groups very well. Every Monday and Wednesday when I meet with my students I stand up and tell them to write about their memories, to write about someone they can no longer see with their eyes, to write about the block they live on, to write about cockroaches … whatever … Then I give them twenty minutes and a room full of quiet. And – presto! Magically, these young women who have promised me they can’t, won’t, will never write … do! When they are done I ask them to read aloud what they have written. The suggestion is often greeted with a chorus of why’s. I give them many reasons: It will help build your confidence; We want to hear the poem in the author’s voice; You can hear the places where you want to make changes when you read it out loud … but I forget to add that the pressure to share it with the group … the fact that there is a group waiting to hear what they wrote … is the magic ingredient that makes the recipe work!
photo by Aja Riggs, copyright 2007