Capital-W Writing, writing, and pre-writing
I wrote a post on Sept 8, How Is Improv Like Writing and Vice Versa?, but I want to write about how to weave Applied Improv into writing.
Writing is (usually) more solitary, slow, introspective, reflective (bordering on ruminative). So, how do you write using the principles of Applied Improv (AI)? Saying yes-and, movement, spontaneity, make your partner look good — none of these seem related to writing, right?
Capital-W Writing is a terrible way to write
If I had four hours to chop down a tree, I’d spend the first three sharpening the axe. — Lincoln (maybe?)
You’re right; improv and writing are reallllly different. (And Lincoln probably never said that quote.)
But, know that capital-W Writing is the absolutely worst place in the world to write. Capital-W Writing brings out the anti-improv brain: the inner critic, judgment, rumination, performance anxiety.
One of the biggest mistakes my writing students make is to sit down in front of a blank screen or page and expect themselves to Write. Holy Hannah, you might as well have an editor looking over your shoulder.
Applied Improv, Writing, and pre-writing
Here’s where Applied Improv comes in. Never start writing with Writing. Start it with pre-writing.
Pre-writing comes from a different part of the brain than does Capital-W Writing. Pre-writing isn’t about getting critiqued or judged. Like improv, it’s all about being free, messy, open, silly, getting in touch with System 1 thinking. In fact, you’re kinda looking at pre-writing right now. (I try to pre-write as much as I can on this blog; sorry for the typos or meanderings.)
So to turn your Writing into pre-writing, borrow heavily from improv. Say yes-and to whatever comes out of your brain. Write in a journal no one will ever see. Write out three pages, and then immediately rip them up. Start a writing circle where critiques aren’t allowed. Take a notebook hiking with you and stop to write every time you get an idea along the trail. Aim to write the crappiest crap you’ve ever crapped out of your brain.
Pre-write before you Capital-W Write
Writing is simply one of the methods we use to take information that’s inside our brains and offer it to others. We can apply all sorts of patinas to it — journalism, humor, poetry, manifestos — but each one is just a way to share information.
So before you add the weightiness of Writing onto your shoulders, you need a way to know and contemplate what’s actually in your brain. I mean, right? (Heh heh.) Capital-W Writing is hard; don’t stress yourself out by sifting through your brain at the same time you’re Writing.
I’ve got an Inner Critic that screams bloody murder at times and I’ve been managing, teaching and coaching writers for almost 20 years. So trust me when I say: take the time to pre-write, and you will never look back.
Exercises for pre-writing
Here are a few exercises to get you started:
Ten True Statements (TTS) What are ten true statements about what you’re writing? These can be anything: I like writing with purple pens. I think dolphin poetry is the bomb. This novel is going to be the best one ever written — once I can get past the first page.
Make lists What are ten things you want to get across in whatever it is you want/need to write? I.e., why are you writing a poem about dolphins, or a newsletter for your website, or a letter asking your boss for a raise?
Outline Make an outline. This feels dangerously close to Writing for my taste, but it works for some people. But make sure your outline is from a writing or pre-writing brain: Make it messy. Hand-write it out if you can. Make a mind map.
Start the beloved Shitty First Draft If you can’t break yourself out of Write mode, trick yourself into it. Write the messiest SFD (Shitty First Draft) imaginable.
Use foul language Or, even use foul language itself in the SFD itself. Anything for you to communicate with your brain that you are writing or even pre-writing.