The Weight of Stories

As for my next book, I am going to hold myself from writing it till I have it impending in me:  grown heavy in my mind like a ripe pear; pendant, gravid, asking to be cut or it will fall.  ~Virginia Woolf

Virginia Woolf may have been a great writer, but I disagree with her sentiments expressed in the above quote. I don’t know when she made this remark, or if any book was written after she said this. What I do know is that Woolf was a year older than I am now when she committed suicide. Instead of a story “growing heavy in her mind like a ripe pear,” her pockets were heavy with stones as she waded into the River Ouse. In short, she, not the book, was gravid.

I think she got it wrong. I am a follower of what Anne Lamott calls, “shitty first drafts” (from Bird by Bird). Writing takes shape for me, like a sculpture. I start with a blob of words, and whittle away until I have a recognizable form. After awhile, a natural beauty emerges, born from a trust in the process and the words that glue the thoughts together. If I waited until a story was heavy in my heart, it would be a long time before I’d get anything written.

Which style calls you—Lamott’s or Woolfs? If it is Woolf’s, stay clear of water.