Getting Under the Lightning

In the first two pages of this short piece, I note several important themes that run throughout Don's work.

Writing is primarily not a matter of talent, of dedication, of vision, of vocabulary, of style, but simply a matter of sitting. The writer is the person who writes. [first line] (74)

We talk about the things that are important for students to hear and understand. This is right up there at the top.

At times I found it hard to accept this double life, getting up early to write or staying up late when my peers in other professions could lawyer or doctor or insure form eight to five. But then I would remind myself that writing isn't a profession, it is a calling--and the only one calling is yourself. I had no choice; I had to write. (74)

I know that for me, when I first encountered Murray's work, this kind of language was persuasive to me--the notion of "calling" and the idea that writing is about something larger than just work. That is promises more than work. There is something sacred about the notion of a calling--who is "called" to their work? Clergy or priests. Teachers. Doctors or nurses. Also persuasive is the notion that one has "no choice"--the writing must just come out. I have something to say and I simply cannot suppress it. This, too, I know I found persuasive.

Our students have important messages to deliver and their own language in which to deliver them. We need to hear their voices and they need to hear their own voices. I hope the following selections will help make more of those voices heard. (75)

Here we see the focus on students, the student-centered theme. The belief that "we" who teach "need" to "hear" from they who learn, as though they have something to offer. And then the notion that they need to hear from themselves too, to listen to themselves. And this is progressive as well, right? The idea of listening to yourself, trusting yourself, valuing that you have something to contribute. My sense is that Don would describe his own childhood as a time of NOT listening to one's own voice, of not knowing how to do so, of being distrustful and suspicious of one's own voice, of deferring to the voices of authority. It feels like there is a bit of "to thine own self be true" in this idea of listening to one's own voice.

These are two important ideas in Murray: teachers must listen to students and students must listen to themselves. What's missing, of course, is that students must listen to teachers--the obvious point that Murray almost never makes. How to situate this philosophy in the broader field of progressive education, Dewey, etc. Did Don situate it this way or was it all strictly born out of his own experience as a student (and perhaps later as a practicing writer)?

And I hope that by taking the teacher into the writer's studio, the teacher will see the possibility of the powerful interaction I have experienced between practicing my craft and sharing that craft with my students. Each activity has stimulated the other. (75)

And here we see another important theme--teachers and writers are different. Teachers have something to learn from writers. He says that he hopes the teacher will see the "possibility" of the interaction between the practice of writing and the sharing of that practice and that these two things inform one another, which is to say that his teaching has been "stimulated" by his professional craft and that his professional craft has been stimulated by his teaching (the second of which, one might not expect). It's interesting that he says the "possibility"--I'm not sure why. Perhaps he's pointing at the idea that there is something of value or that can be learned from listening to the person writes talk about writing, as opposed to taking grammar or vocabulary lessons out of a textbook and teaching writing that way?

And yet I realize that never a day goes by that I am not grabbing hold of new information about the subjects on which I write. I am a continual student, and that is the resource from which all my writing is drawn. (77)

The focus here on learning as a lifelong process, the willingness with which he embraces the identity of student. These are prominent themes in much of Don's work. And they do sort of fall under the heading of "instructions for living."

I must write to answer questions I am asking myself, to solve problems that I find interesting, to bring an order into an area where the confusion terrifies me. (78)

I write out of what I don't know... (79)

I don't want any questions that have answers--they aren't any fun. (84)

This is still valuable and important and shouldn't be surprising to any student who has ever kept a journal or written a letter to a family member or loved one or friend. I think many students and many people are accustomed to the idea that writing is intended to solve problems when it comes to personal or expressive writing. I think fewer think of writing as serving this purpose in school. In school, still, sadly, writing is often about providing the answer and demonstrating what you (are supposed to) know. This is a theme in Murray that strikes me as still incredibly relevant.

I have the advantage in being undereducated for my trade. I'd like to be well educated but I am surrounded by people who are too well educated, who know too well what has been done and what can't be done. If you have the disadvantage of a fine and complete education, move out from that center of comfort to where you don't know everything, where there are dark forests, looming mountains, shadows that move, strange noises in the night. (79)

The theme of distrust of the authority figures, the turning on the head move--I am undereducated (yet he has made a career of writing and even won a Pulitzer Prize for his writing). What is this called, this rhetorical move of positioning oneself as the novice even when one is not the novice, the move of adopting ignorance even when one is not ignorant? FOr example, the above quote comes under the heading of "innocence." Academia is a place where professors profess--which is to say tell what they know about something. Murray is the anti-profess-or. He's not interested in what he knows. He's interested in what he doesn't know. This is what made him radical to many in the educational establishment.

Questions:

Murray the Transcendentalist

Murray the Progressive Educator

These are strains running through his work. Threads. Unacknowledged by him. Influential and persuasive, but unacknowledged by me in early readings of his work.

I am working with the idea that Murray is perhaps most useful in Beaufort's or the WPA Outcomes Statement sections on "Writing Processes"--which I take to be, how writing actually gets done. Murray gives me the permission to categorize him in this way when he reveals his own purposes in writing about writing:

I used to worry that my compulsive study of my craft...would paralyze my writing or at least cause terminal constipation. Perhaps it hasn't helped, but I had no choice; long before I taught or made a profession of studying the writing process, I was a student of my craft. (82)

I read these words, which can be found elsewhere in his work, and it's like, "Duh!" he's telling me what he is useful for or how he can be used. More along this vein:

Skill is our goal and our prison. We have to learn the tricks of our trade. (83)

know your craft (83)

And it occurs to me that very few students really think of writing as a craft, as a process that can be thought about. Murray helps them think about it.