Joseph Campbell on Writing

[pameladlloyd]

I've been reading The Power of Myth by Joseph Campbell with Bill Moyers, recently. While I've read portions of several of Joseph Campbell's works, it was generally in the context of research I was doing while I was a student. My eldest son has the DVD set of Bill Moyer's interviews with Campbell, which I've been thinking of watching, and I decided that I would get the most out of them by reading the book beforehand.

I'm struck by how often something Campbell says has me wanting to jump up and find someone to share the passage with. I also find myself deeply appreciative of Campbell's statements about myth as metaphor, which help me to contextualize religion in a way that works for me.

The passage I wanted to share with you tonight is on page 71, in the chapter titled, "The Journey Inward." The point of discussion in which this takes place has wandered from a discussion of myth and religion to the relationship between myth and folktales.

Anyone writing a creative work knows that you open, you yield yourself, and the book talks to you and builds itself. To a certain extent, you become the carrier of something that is given to you from what have been called the Muses&emdash;or, in biblical language, "God." This is no fancy, it is a fact. Since the inspiration comes from the unconscious, and since the unconscious minds of the people of any single small society have much in common, what the shaman or seer brings forth is something that is waiting to be brought forth in everyone. So when one hears the seer's story, one responds, "Aha! This is my story. This is something that I had always wanted to say but wasn't able to say." There has to be a dialogue, and interaction between the seer and the community. The seer who sees things that people in the community don't want to hear is just ineffective. Sometimes they will wipe him out.

In addition to his opening statement about the place from which creativity springs in any writer (and I think it's fair to think this would apply to any artist), Campbell seems to be suggesting that there is very close connection between the writer/artist and the mystic.

When I think about my own writing process—which is a fitful one, full of days in which no worthwhile writing (or, indeed, any writing, at all) is forthcoming, or days in which every word seems to be dragged painfully from some deep well, yet also sprinkled here and there with times and days when the words just flow onto the page with very little effort or apparent conscious thinking on my part—I wonder how that fits into Campbell's view of creativity. I don't think of myself as a mystic, and I would have to say that I am probably not particularly attuned to the unconscious minds of the vast majority of the people in our society (which is, of course, a large, rather than small, one), but perhaps this is why I struggle so hard.

The preceding paragraph is one in which I'm pretty much thinking out loud. If I'd been willing to get out of bed last night, immediately after reading this passage, to share it with you, I probably would have had something very different to say. Certainly, at that moment, I had a complex, excited reaction to what I'd read. Part of this was the immediate question as I read the first sentence about whether the creative process really is that similar for all writers and artists, or whether some (possibly those who prefer detailed outlines?) would reject this notion.

So, I turn this over to you, my friends.

Do you experience the writing process as something you must open yourself to, as something to which you must yield? (As I wrote that, I realized that there is a part of me that hates yielding to that impulse, even as I long to; I want to strike this confession from any public setting, but I am going to resist doing so, because I think it may be a key component of the struggle I have as a writer and I'm sure I'm not unique.)

Do you feel that, as a writer or artist of any kind, you resemble a mystic or seer? Or, do you reject that comparison?

Comments

[mmuenzler.livejournal.com]

When I think of writing, I think more of digging deep into the dirt, pulling out bits of rock and root and worm and word. The more I delve, the more the dirt stains the cracks of my skin, marking my passage. I do not yield to the earth, nor does it yield to me.

[pdlloyd.livejournal.com]

I think that's a good metaphor. It's work, hard work, that brings you closer to the buried truth.

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

Good metaphors--whatever they are--have the power to make me think, "Yes! That's how it is for me!" and I mean it when I say it. But then later I think, "Hmm, except..." and I think of ways in which the metaphor doesn't work. And because good metaphors do have power, I can be excited by ones that are even contradictory.

I don't think I ever feel like I'm giving in to an impulse. I do sometimes feel driven, but when I do feel that, it feels like something I totally desire, so I don't have the sense of needing to relinquish anything or to yield. Sometimes, in the course of working out the plot of a story, something appears in my mind as inevitable, and it's sometimes something that I don't want or hadn't intended. Then I step back and think, why does this have to happen in the story? Why do things have to be this way? Do they really? And if it really does feel like they really do, then I guess there's some yielding at that point. Sometimes I've ended up not writing something if I didn't like the way it seemed that the story would have to go.

A metaphor I use, sometimes, is that I feel like I'm hearing something distant and trying to write it down accurately. I put down one thing. And then I realize, no, no, that's not what I'm hearing. That's not how it goes. And I listen again, and alter what I've got based on the new way I hear it.

But sometimes things are more workmanlike. It's more like, I need to put something up on that shelf: how shall I do it? Shall I use a stepladder? Too boring and obvious. Shall I magic it up there? Too easy. Shall I throw it at the shelf and hope it lands there? That might be interesting--other things might fall--but that might become a distraction from my main goal. And so on, until I hit upon something that works.

[pdlloyd.livejournal.com]

Good metaphors--whatever they are--have the power to make me think, "Yes! That's how it is for me!" and I mean it when I say it. But then later I think, "Hmm, except..." and I think of ways in which the metaphor doesn't work. And because good metaphors do have power, I can be excited by ones that are even contradictory.

Yes, that feels very typical of my response to metaphors.

A metaphor I use, sometimes, is that I feel like I'm hearing something distant and trying to write it down accurately. I put down one thing. And then I realize, no, no, that's not what I'm hearing. That's not how it goes. And I listen again, and alter what I've got based on the new way I hear it.

I sometimes feel as if I have a window* into another dimension where the events I'm writing about are actually unfolding. But, it's not a stable portal, so I slide from dimension to dimension... I'm not sure whether I'm trying to record the events of a single story, or to find the common elements in what I witness.

*Which makes this sound totally visual, but it's not. I usually have a strong empathetic/telepathic connection to at least one of the characters, which means that there are moments when it feels more like I'm channeling the experience through their filter.

But sometimes things are more workmanlike. It's more like, I need to put something up on that shelf: how shall I do it? Shall I use a stepladder? Too boring and obvious. Shall I magic it up there? Too easy. Shall I throw it at the shelf and hope it lands there? That might be interesting--other things might fall--but that might become a distraction from my main goal. And so on, until I hit upon something that works.

I love this! Although you start by calling this approach workmanlike, it feels playful and active. An exploration, rather than drudgery. Too often, I'm more likely to feel as if I'm struggling through a sea of molasses.

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

Which makes this sound totally visual

--not at all! Sounds and smells and sensations come in through windows too :-)

[marycatelli]

All metaphors and analogies are inexact. An exact metaphor is not a metaphor, it's an identity.

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

Good point! The only thing that will give you one-to-one correspondence is you yourself.

And I think there's nothing illogical about contradictory metaphors offering useful insights.

[pdlloyd.livejournal.com]

And I think there's nothing illogical about contradictory metaphors offering useful insights.

Yes, because they may shed light on different aspects of something.

[pdlloyd.livejournal.com]

True :-)

[green-knight.livejournal.com]

My metaphor is that I'm the chronicler. I don't make things up (and when I do, they tend to be clicheed and forcing people and events into directions that are just wrong and everything grinds to a halt, so I don't do it.

I write fiction like I write history. Certain facts are immutable, and however little sense they make, they need to stay and need to be explained in context. Others are conjectures, and like any historian I can get it wrong - listen to the wrong sources, not pay enough attention - which means I can edit substantially without becoming untrue to what I see as the truth of the story.

For me, the balance lies in not trying to force the story (and I am lousy at 'making things up' consciously) and keeping the big picture. The big picture includes 'what works for readers' - because what makes a story come alive in my head is often insufficient to make it come equally alive for the reader. I work _with_ my inner editor, who takes notes of inconsistencies and offers ways to strengthen the narrative.

I don't quite believe in 'waiting for inpiration' or that words are only good if they flow freely and not if you have to labour over them. Most of the time six months later you can't tell the difference, and some books need more careful crafting than others... and *everything* needs to be edited at some point.

[pdlloyd.livejournal.com]

The chronicler is a good metaphor—staying true to your story and doing your best to tell it as it should be told.

I write fiction like I write history.

I like this. :)

For me, the balance lies in not trying to force the story (and I am lousy at 'making things up' consciously) and keeping the big picture. The big picture includes 'what works for readers' - because what makes a story come alive in my head is often insufficient to make it come equally alive for the reader. I work _with_ my inner editor, who takes notes of inconsistencies and offers ways to strengthen the narrative.

I don't quite believe in 'waiting for inpiration' or that words are only good if they flow freely and not if you have to labour over them. Most of the time six months later you can't tell the difference, and some books need more careful crafting than others... and *everything* needs to be edited at some point.

The balance point between not forcing a story and avoiding the trap of waiting for inspiration when it's waiting for you to come find it can be difficult to find. I like it that you feel you are able to work with your inner editor, it's easy for many of us to find our inner editor in conflict with our inner creator. But, yes, I think that it's when they team up that the writing can flow.

[green-knight.livejournal.com]

The balance point between not forcing a story and avoiding the trap of waiting for inspiration when it's waiting for you to come find it can be difficult to find.

I've been stuck on the Swamp Thing since December, and while I've been poking it regularly, I would say that inspiration is definitely an aspect of it. It had to build in my backbrain before I could write on. (I think I also had to find a vital part of the process, a mental map of what this book is like which informs the things I need before I can write on. For other books that has been the character and the problem they were facing, and interaction between the protag and others would drive it on; for this book this patently does not work.)

And yes, I find having a constructive inner editor very useful. He takes note of things that need to be fixed in second draft and otherwise keeps out of the way.

[pdlloyd.livejournal.com]

I've got novels that have languished for years, so since December doesn't sound so bad to me. But, we each have our own process and regardless of the length of time, it's painful to feel stuck. *sends word unsticking lubricant*

[marycatelli]

The story is perfectly capable of taking on a life of its own, or dying on me, against my will.

And there's a reason why I say, when given writing advice I don't approve of, "My muse thinks you're hilarious" -- besides, of course, its being absolutely irrefutable.

[pdlloyd.livejournal.com]

The story is perfectly capable of taking on a life of its own, or dying on me, against my will.

Yes, I've certainly experienced that. Although, I often find that a story that has died may rise from the ashes, if given sufficient time alone. Mind you, this may be decades.

And there's a reason why I say, when given writing advice I don't approve of, "My muse thinks you're hilarious" -- besides, of course, its being absolutely irrefutable.

Lol! And, so true!

[janni.livejournal.com]

And there's a reason why I say, when given writing advice I don't approve of, "My muse thinks you're hilarious"

Heh. I like that.

[mount-oregano.livejournal.com]

I was going to say something, but now I want to say that your friends have beautiful userpics.

Oh, as for mystic or seer, I think I only manage to notice things that other people miss, or don't recognize. Saying "look!" is enough.

[pdlloyd.livejournal.com]

I was going to say something, but now I want to say that your friends have beautiful userpics.

I think so, too. 8)

Oh, as for mystic or seer, I think I only manage to notice things that other people miss, or don't recognize. Saying "look!" is enough.

Sounds like exactly the sort of thing a true mystic or seer would do. :)

[mmegaera.livejournal.com]

One time it was like turning on a fire hose [sighs in memory].

For me it's more like describing the movie in my mind. Except when it isn't.

[pdlloyd.livejournal.com]

For me it's more like describing the movie in my mind. Except when it isn't.

Oh, ain't that the truth. :P

[janni.livejournal.com]

I don't feel like I'm a mystic or seer (appealing as the idea is to me--interesting to realize), but I do feel like there's something like magic in the process--that I'm opening myself to the story, listening to it, letting it tell me what it is and what it needs.

That may merely be metaphor for whatever I'm actually doing, but it works for me, so I go with it, as with all things writing-related that seem to work. Nothing good seems to come of fighting my process. Instead I keep trying to uncover ways to support it and use it better, I think.

[pdlloyd.livejournal.com]

I don't feel like I'm a mystic or seer (appealing as the idea is to me--interesting to realize), but I do feel like there's something like magic in the process--that I'm opening myself to the story, listening to it, letting it tell me what it is and what it needs.

Yes, it is appealing, especially since I've felt out of step with the crowd for most of my lift. I'm not a leader, nor a follower, not a loner, but not someone who must constantly be surrounded by others; instead, I'm off somewhere in the clouds, dreaming strange stuff up, even when very little of it reaches the page.

That may merely be metaphor for whatever I'm actually doing, but it works for me, so I go with it, as with all things writing-related that seem to work. Nothing good seems to come of fighting my process. Instead I keep trying to uncover ways to support it and use it better, I think.

If it works, it's good. We all need to find ways to support our process. I like that you said, "use it better," because that suggests that it's not the process that needs to change, merely our ability to work with it.