Right brain writing – Part 1

It must have been more than twelve years ago, when we were still in Desa Sri Hartamas. A customer asked if we could get the book Drawing with the Right Side of the Brain by Betty Edwards. We did, and got extra copies for the shop. I got curious and decided to see what the book  had to say. It was, to quote a friend who also bought a copy, the only self-help book that worked. Seriously. If a self-help book works, you wouldn’t have to keep buying one after another all the time, right? After reading this book, I didn’t need any other book to learn to draw. In three weeks, I went from one who couldn’t draw at all to one who could draw a recognisable image of me by looking into the mirror! It was amazing! (But, as in everything else, one had to keep at it every day to improve.)

I wondered, for a long time, how it applied to writing. (A nagging feeling at the back of my mind said that it did, that the process was the same.)

Another book that made sense was Becoming a Writer by Dorothea Brande, first published in 1934, and still in print. (That should mean something, shouldn’t it?) There are hosts of other ‘writing’ books but none come close to Brande’s commonsensical approach. One has to become a writer first, before learning tricks and techniques – the old story of the cart and the horse. I tried her techniques, and the result of that was my first book of short stories called The Wedgwood Ladies Football Club. (I was reluctant to publish it initially, but I was persuaded by friends.)

A third inspiration was a recording of a lecture at the University of Malaya that I heard in 1974. (I believe it was by one Dr Gordon Banks and that he was a psychologist, although I could be wrong on both counts. Can anyone out there remember that lecture?) There was a tape recording that went (something) like this (not exact words): “What would you be in five years if you started doing something? What would you be in five years if you didn’t do anything?” That was forty years ago!

One of the key discoveries of a research on the function of the brain is the dual nature of human thinking: verbal and analytical thinking, which is generally associated with the left side of the brain, and visual and perceptual thinking situated on the right. Neuropsychologist Roger Wolcott Sperry received a Nobel Prize in 1981 for his work on the human brain.

By separating the area of the brain used to transfer signals between the right and left hemispheres in epileptics, Sperry and his colleagues demonstrated that the two halves of the brain had independent consciousness and responded to specific tasks. This research was important for understanding the functioning of the brain. This pioneering work was published in 1968.

(The actual locations of the two modes in the brain is still being argued. But it is sufficient for us to say that there are two modes of thinking: a linear, logical mode and a perceptive, creative mode. For our purposes, we shall use the terms ‘Right Brain’ and ‘Left Brain’.)

Right Brain Writing is a skill like cycling, swimming or driving, which once learned will not be forgotten except, but unlike cycling or driving, you can continue doing it even when you are eighty! Of course, like any other skill set, the more frequently you do it, the better you get.

You can learn to write in a relatively short time, but beginning will be hard. Along with the struggle will come that ‘ah-hah’ moment, when you will suddenly stop in the middle of whatever you are doing and say, “So, this is what it’s all about.”

Most people are willing to admit that they can’t draw. Drawing is often viewed as a God-given talent that one either is born with, or not. But few are willing to admit that they cannot write, although the last time they wrote anything creative (apart from office reports and accounts) was when they left school at 16 or 17. (22 if they have college education.) So the truth is that most adults, professionals and non-professional, have the writing skills of sixteen or twenty-two-year-olds who have not written anything since they left school or college, although many may get upset by this statement. (Betty Edwards says in her book that most adults have the drawing skills of a twelve-year-old. Why is that easier to accept?)

The brain grows lazy from lack of use. Visual, auditory and even olfactory data are observed, analysed and classified according to our past experience. We observe what we expect to see and classify the information according to common symbols we have learnt. In drawing, examples of these symbols are: the stick man, the smiley face, the square car, etc. In writing, an example of these the symbols will be a nice man, a bad smell, a beautiful view, etc – all the adjectives being judgmental (in one way or another) without giving the reader any idea of what is actually meant. What is so nice about the man? How does the bad smell affect the character? Describe the view. Visualise in your mind’s eye, and describe to the reader. Make it come alive!

(To be continued.)

Read, read and read.

We have heard it said that in real estate, the three most important factors are location, location and location. In writing, the three most important factors are reading, reading and reading.

I don’t believe there is a writing programme anywhere in the world that does not emphasise reading as a prerequisite for writing, but it amazes me how so many people still think (and even boast) that they do not. One never hears of a musician who does not listen to music (good and bad), or a movie maker who does not view other people’s work, or dancer who never learns from watching others, or a sportsperson ... and so on. But with writers ... one hears of it all the time.

Then, of course, there are those who did a couple of classics for literature when they were in school some 25 years ago, and subsequently believe they know everything there is to know about writing; or those who have read only one book in their entire lives, namely, a Harry Potter adventure, and consider their education complete.

Why do people think that they can write without any effort, even if they have never done it? One is reminded of the famous story in which Margaret Atwood said she’d like to be a brain surgeon when she retires from writing!

The number one reason for a writer to read voraciously is to learn from others. It’s not about copying, though it could be. Example: I’ve come across versions of Borges’s universal library (in different forms) in the works of Umberto Eco and Carlos Ruiz Zafon (just like the works of Kurosawa pop up in movies like Star Wars). Throughout history, writers (and artists) have influenced one another, and have copied and learnt freely. (The current copyright regime was introduced only in the 20th Century and is an aberration, but that’s another story.)

The second reason: if you don’t like to read books by others, why would anyone want to read yours? Because you have some sort of earth-shattering idea that no else in civilisation has ever had? Get real!

One point that is particularly (and bizarrely) true of many Malaysian who want to write (if they actually read) is: they prefer to read ‘imported’ books, because Malaysian writers are not good enough. Certainly, there are many bad writers (like anywhere in the world), but there are many good ones, too. Besides, one learns as much (if not, more) from bad writing as from good.

One suspects that it’s got more to do with fashion than anything else. A look at the shelves of major bookshops in the Kelang Valley, and the number of Caucasian (and African-American) faces in our newspapers and magazines, and the ubiquity of skin whitening creams available in pharmacies, sort of reinforces that point. But then, these are people who like the idea of writing far more than the act of writing, and they exist all over the world.

Still, if you don’t read books by Malaysians, why would any Malaysian want to read yours?

Malaysian writing in English faces another major problem. Silverfish hosted two writer’s events in September, one of which comprised three Malaysia/Singapore authors who have been writing since the fifties (a remarkable feat), and one of whom had claimed in Singapore in 2009 that modern English writing in Malaysian is dead. This is an unfortunate sentiment, but is quite widely shared by writers of that generation; if not dead, then it’s not relevant.

The converse view was expressed by a young writer who said that he has read some of the oldies, but questions their present output. “They complain that no one respects them anymore; yes, they were relevant during their time, but what have they done since? There is only so much whining about the past one can take.”

So there is this mutual disrespect thing going on.

When Silverfish Books began in 1999, we had some thirty titles of Malaysia writing in English (including the ten-book Rhino Press edition). At present, we have over 1500 titles and we, certainly, do not have every title in print.

As for the oldies: respect is a two-way street. The relevance of their work is not questioned, but it’s also time to move on. Robert Yeo has edited a book of Singapore short stories spanning a period from the forties to the current millennium, called One: The Anthology. That's a good start.