Release judgement. J is not for judgement, which hinders creativity, a stick in the spokes of your wheel. And release meaning. J is not for jurisprudence or just so. Sure you want to write something brilliant that moves hearts and changes the world. But. This is also an art made of ink, sound, rhythm, imagery and sensate detail. So how do you–just for practice–release judgement and meaning? Two exercises I’ve come across along my way:
First, write badly. Go on and try. Turn hard in the direction of what you fear: Cliche? Abstraction? A burden of detail? Telling? Rhyme? I don’t know. But you do. Face full on the voice that criticizes, that warns, and then follow its directions in reverse. Do everything you spend so much energy trying to avoid.
What happens? Write badly every day. It’s such an easy, pure pleasure. It looks much the same as writing well except there’s nothing to stop you. Away you go.
And then, next, release meaning altogether. Steer away from it. Meaning is tenacious and humans are tenacious about meaning. But try. Go. Nouns, verbs–sentences, but not sense. A rainbow concoction stirring from soft what’s it’s, a false beginning framing hellows, seizing shattered compartments, biting hard candy rockets that plunder terror in search of tripods.
This is a dance, a lie, something you can’t know until after trials, errors. Go make them, your mistakes. Invite them. Enjoy them. Stay curious about them. Jabberwock with enthusiasm, your slithy toves giring in the wabe.