Reading My Mind Through The Words of Others

{Photo credit: D Sharon Pruitt}

Dylan Thomas said, “The blank page is where I read my mind.” Additionally, as writers—and, indeed, as people—we can learn and grow a great deal by reading the minds of others. In the forthcoming months on this blog, I will be posting about a few books that have taught me a great deal.

From The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis, I have learned that a story can be as short as a paragraph, yet still feel complete and connect with the reader in a deep, visceral way. Davis’s piece “The Sock” is one of the most emotionally stunning stories I have read, even though it is only two pages long. Part of what makes it so affecting is that the crux of the piece hinges on a description of a sock—something so ordinary and even a bit distasteful. Who wants to read a vivid description of a smelly, sweaty sock? Yet this is precisely what gives the sock its power as an object: it is so utterly personal, like underwear but without the sexual connotation. The main character is a divorced woman and the sock is used to characterize her ex-husband. Even more poignantly, the sock provides a glimpse into their relationship, as the woman remembers the countless times she had picked up her husband’s socks in all their years together. The juxtaposition is striking; she intimately knows how he takes off his socks while reading in bed (she describes his feet resting together “like two halves of fruit”) and yet now they are living separate lives, and he is married to a different woman.

In this story and others, I like that Davis doesn’t spell everything out for the reader; questions about her characters linger afterward. Often after finishing one of her stories, I immediately want to go back and read the story again. Even months after reading "The Sock," the main character has stayed with me. In my experience, the best stories are like that; they stick with you long after the book has been closed and put back on the shelf. 

Other stories that have stayed with me are those in the beautiful book a picture is worth…(Arch Street Press). The words of these sixteen young adults are incredibly poignant, honest, and filled with raw emotion. I am most struck by their mature insights and deep reflections on their lives, both the joyful and painful memories.

Betania captures the mingling of excitement and frustration that comes with artistic expression: “Just a couple of days ago, a professor from New York came and she taught photography and how to tell stories through pictures. … [She] got the school to provide us with cameras and she took my classmates and me out to our community to capture pictures. I loved the program and you really get to see that anything can be picture-perfect and everything is beautiful in its own little way. It made me see my community differently and I appreciate her for that. I didn’t like my pictures; at the moment that I captured the photos I thought they were amazing but then when I saw everyone else’s, I lost all hope in my pictures” (pg. 95). I think every artist has felt that sinking tug towards “the comparison trap”—you feel delighted with your work initially, but then at some point your internal critic takes over and suddenly it seems that everyone in the world is more artistically gifted than you are. I wish I could tell Betania: your photographs are perfect because they were created by the one-and-only you! 

Ashley’s story of resilience and strength is incredibly moving. She describes cutting the word “crazy” into her arm after being bullied in school and being made to feel like an outcast. She describes moving from town to town, school to school, and battling depression: “I was simply a shell in my own life: looking pleasant on the outside but empty inside. All I wanted was for someone to come up to me and tell me that they knew exactly what I was going through and how I felt. I wanted them to tell me that they had a solution, but that didn’t happen. Why didn’t anybody just ask me how I was or how I felt?” (pg. 24). A common theme that runs through many stories in the book is a yearning for care and compassion. In this way, the book expands into not simply narratives about what it is like to be a young person in the world today, but rather what is means to be human. For this is a crucial aspect of our common humanity: wanting to be loved and seen and heard and understood.

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Eventually, Ashley manages to reach out for help and begins to make more connections at school. She writes she has “come to realize that things always get better. Everyone has to go through hard times, some harder than others, but in time cloudy skies will clear away.”

 Hope for the writer, and hope for the reader, too.

Guest Post by Mariana Ashley

Writing about writing: 

The importance of a writing journal 

by Mariana Ashley

At one point I wrote so much I felt as though I was going crazy.

On top of my freelance writing duties, I try to write a little bit of my own fiction on the side every day or at least a few times a week. If I’m really on a roll, I could be writing over 3000 words a day counting my professional writing and the fiction that I do in my spare time. I wish I had more of those days, but sometimes I just don’t have the energy to produce content constantly.

About a year ago, amidst a particularly grueling week of writing, I found read a post from some writing blog (I can’t remember the name for the life of me) that advocated for keeping up a writing journal. Is this person out of their mind? I thought. I’m putting in tons of hours to write for work and for my own personal enjoyment, and now it’s expected that I keep up a journal too? How could a person possibly cope with that much time in front of a page? 

Despite my misgivings, I tried keeping a journal on the side of everything else. The post made it very clear that this writing journal was meant solely for you to express how you were feeling at that moment, no matter what was on your mind. Relationships, writing habits, career ambitions, and general musings were all fair game. The writing journal isn’t about sketching out a new story or figuring out the next plot point in your novel; it’s time for you to reflect on you.

According to the blogger, the point of the writing journal was for you to wrestle with any emotions or troubles that kept you from making progress or breaking through on your other work. Rather than sublimate and dismiss any negative emotions, you could feel free to write them out in full in the journal.

I can’t even begin to articulate what the writing journal did for me. I had been plagued with doubt about so many writing projects at the time that it had seriously affected the quality and quantity of my writing. Once I started working out those doubts and inhibitions on paper, I could see clearly that the things that worried me and kept me up at night had no basis in reality—they were just negative thoughts that kept me from taking serious leaps in my work. I worried too much about how people would receive my writing rather than take the time to actually develop and shape it. Seeing these thoughts splayed out on the journal was like a revelation.

Now I write in my writing journal almost every day. It’s an indispensable tool for keeping my emotions in check and staying level headed when the writing process because particularly grueling and difficult. I recommend a writing journal for any writer, if just to get in touch with your emotions.

Do you keep a journal of any sort? I’d love to hear about it!

BIO: This guest post is brought to you by Mariana Ashley, a prolific blogger who provides web content to a number of blogs and websites. She's most interested in providing guidance to prospective college students who wish to attend online colleges in Montana. When she's not writing or researching online education trends, she enjoys riding her horse, George, and spending quality time with her four nieces. Mariana welcomes your questions and comments at mariana.ashley031@gmail.com.

Guest Post by Brian Jenkins

Thoughts on Getting an MFA Degree in Creative Writing

by Brian Jenkins

Should aspiring writers go for a Master's in Fine Arts degree in creative writing? It depends who you ask. Gail Hochman, a New York agent at Brandt & Hochman, stated in an article in The Atlantic, "We look favorably on anyone who has an MFA, simply because it shows they're serious about their writing." She also said, "but perhaps more important than which program the student attended is which writers that student studied with."

MFA programs in creative writing provide young writers with the distinct opportunity to connect with more accomplished writers. They receive advice from experts on craft, technique, and other important aspects of writing and also get feedback on their works-in-progress. Students typically read authors of classic literature and become aware of their styles so they can try to integrate these into their own writing.

Some programs also provide opportunities to meet agents, editors, and publishers. Many graduates from highly regarded MFA programs get their work published soon after obtaining their degrees.

According to the same article in The Atlantic, Ethan Canin, a University of Iowa faculty member and an alum of its Writers' Workshop, believes that a student's competitiveness can be "humiliating and degrading" but also sobering in useful ways. However, many professors and program directors report that their programs are places where writers can find some sanctuary from judgement. They feel as though writing students are surrounded by supporters and mentors. Chuck Wachtel, program director at New York University, said, "I see it as not so much teaching students as helping them learn."

Many of the writers who are teaching at top programs teach infrequently. They typically teach only one class every year and a half. This is because many schools believe published works do more to enhance the program's image than the amount of time instructors teach classes.

Getting Accepted to an MFA Program

Most program directors report that a short writing sample is the primary factor in determining who gets admitted into the program. Typically, the four vital elements program directors look for in candidates are talent, teachability, ambition, and collegiality.


Full-Residency Programs

In full-residency programs, students get immediate feedback on their writing and feel like part of a community of writers. These programs usually take two to three years to complete.

Low-Residency Programs

In these programs, writers don't need to spend a lot of time on-campus. Low residency programs are appealing to people who have full-time careers. Many programs emphasize close, directed reading of books every semester. Students correspond with a faculty advisor online, and in some programs they also correspond with other students. They usually attend 7 to 10 day residency periods in the summer and winter. The residency periods place an emphasis on workshops and provide contact with faculty members. Low-residency programs can usually be completed in four semesters.

Writers interested in getting an MFA degree can check out the Poets & Writers website to review low- and full-residency MFA creative writing programs in the United States and in other English-speaking countries.

MFA Program Workshops

It's vital to find out how a program's workshops are operated. Regarding less effective workshops, Michael Cunningham, Brooklyn College's director and a Pulitzer Prize winner, stated, "you typically show up with work in hand, and people tell you what's wrong with it." He also thinks that another problem is the consensus nature of the workshop process, which may lead young writers to validate work that seems similar to other generally acclaimed work.

If you're considering enrolling in an MFA degree program in creative writing, it's important to get familiar with the faculty members' work to see if they'll be suitable mentors for you.


Brian Jenkins writes feature articles primarily on career topics for BrainTrack.com, where he has contributed content to the website's guide to career planning.

Promises to Yourself

Whenever you begin a new chapter of your life -- a new school semester, a new job, a new year -- it is the perfect time to sit down and set some goals for yourself. What do you want to accomplish in the next six months? Where do you want to be? WHO do you want to be?

Also, make a list of promises to yourself. Promises to strive for health, balance, and happiness with every ounce of your being.

I read an apt quote by Annie Dillard the other day: "How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives."

How are you spending your days -- and, thus, your life? It can also apply to your thoughts. How we spend our thoughts is how we spend our lives, as well. How would your characterize your thoughts and self-talk? Are you building yourself up or bringing yourself down?

Here are some promises I am making to myself this upcoming school year. Maybe they'll work for you, too:

- I will surround myself with positivity.
- I will think positive, supportive thoughts about myself and my dreams.
- I will surround myself with nurturing, driven, creative, optimistic, intelligent people of integrity, who love me for who I am and yet also push and inspire me to be better.
- I will, as John Wooden says, "make friendship a fine art," and I will choose relationships that make me feel happy, fulfilled and whole.
- I will not get overwhelmed by everything I have to do -- by all the details and to-do lists of everyday life, as well as the enormity of my dreams -- but instead will seek confidence and support from all of the things I have done and learned thus far, with the support of those who love me.