In undergrad, I attended an open mic night at the library where people could share a reading from their favorite writer. After hearing a few of the standards—Shakespeare, J.K. Rowling, Stephen King—one of the librarians got up and changed into bright red high heels in front of the audience. She then read Kim Addonizio’s “What Women Want” while striding circles around the crowd. I was captivated.
Several years later, I got Addonizio’s book on writing poetry, Ordinary Genius, and promptly left it to gather dust on my bookshelf. It wasn’t until a recent quarantine-induced existential crisis that I picked it up again for the first time and finished the 294-page volume in two days, like any sane person would. It was the right choice—I emerged comforted and inspired by Addonizio’s words and advice. Though the book focuses specifically on poetry, it’s rich with wisdom transferable to any writer.
As tutors, we know that the writing process constantly grows and changes. And while we may spend more time obsessing over that than the average student, it’s still important for us to take a step back and reflect on our own processes. By growing and experimenting with our practice, we can find new strategies and ways of looking at writing that will enhance our conversations with anyone who comes to the writing center. Ordinary Genius refreshed my perspectives on the following, which I’d like to share with you here.
On Getting Started
As many of us know, the hardest part of the writing process can often be the beginning: staring down that blank page. Addonizio encourages us to accept the beginning as a leap into the darkness. We don’t know where the writing will go, or what will end up coming out, until we make the jump. She says, “Dare to feel like a beginner—unsure and clumsy at first, but having a good time and doing your best to learn.”
On Revision
Addonizio compares effective revision to hacking through a jungle with a butter knife. I wish I could reprint full excerpts here, but I’ll sum it up with one (slightly harsh) quote: “If you don’t think your work needs revision, here’s a tip: Don’t try to be a poet. Your work will never—and I mean never—be any good.” Frank, yes, but also optimistic! There is a clear path to becoming a stronger writer (even if it is tangled with obstacles): revise. I’ll be the first to admit that, having deadlines and other projects, I sometimes write drafts to the point of being “good enough.” And truthfully, that’s okay. Not everything you write can—or even should—be a masterpiece. But revision is a crucial skill that will help your process as a whole. As Addonizio says, practicing it will help you hone your little butter knife to a sharp blade.
On Identity
When writing, it’s important to understand how your identity influences what you create and how you respond to others’ work. This has lately been a relevant topic at the UCWbL and is always important for tutors to explore. Addonizio talks about the many “different Americas” that exist—the myriad of different ways writers experience our country and society based on their backgrounds. She asserts that her own experiences, privileges, and beliefs—as well as any of ours—mean that we “already have a whole boatload, so to speak, of cultural identities and assumptions. It means that those attitudes might be revealed in writing, whether or not [we’re] aware of them.” Examine your own writing to see what’s present or absent in terms of this broader racial, social, and class context. What does it mean to write from your identity? How can your writing engage with the identities of others in a meaningful way?
On Collaborating
Big fans of this one at the UCWbL, of course! Honestly, it’s hard for me to split revising and collaborating, because I think they’re one in the same realm. But Addonizio devotes a chapter to encouraging collaboration with others who can share in the pain and excitement of your writing process. She specifies the value in “a colleague who thinks of writing as an art and a craft.” This can include collaboration within the context of a writing center appointment, but I think it’s important to remember there are other ways to work together when that context grows familiar. Addonizio offers ideas such as alternating lines in a collaborative poem, rewriting each other’s work and seeing what emerges, or even making a short movie about your work together. These are obviously more experimental than usual, but they might be just the thing to shake your process up.
On Improving
Addonizio puts it simply: “If you want to write well, read.” I often tell people that good writing is impossible to produce in a vacuum; your writing grows when you are in conversation with others, and this goes for reading as well. It may not be only reading, but the practice of regularly taking in any type of material that inspires you. Examine the craft of experts, authors, painters, musicians—people whose work you like, and people whose work you don’t like, too. Learn from them and consider what you admire or what you’d do differently. Put your writing in conversation with others and let it flourish.
In all, Addonizio’s book argues that genius is not automatic. It is built, like any skill, through practice, effort, and commitment. At the writing center, we know that poor writing does not indicate a poor writer. Though it can be easy to feel this way, Addonizio affirms that if you work at your craft, strong writing will be inevitable. “You will write lines you feel are breathtaking in their beauty, only to have someone say, ‘That’s a cliché. I’ve heard it a million times before,’” she writes, “Don’t worry about it. Read, and write, and read some more, and you will get better.”’
Reference
Addonizio, Kim. Ordinary Genius. W.W. Norton & Company, 2009.