When students arrive for the first meeting of my creative writing course, they see this 38-word message on the board: “The first thing you must learn to do is to be able to write tight. Then, and only then, after you have learned to write tight can you ever hope to be able to learn to write right.”
In the first session, they take a test requiring them to rewrite the message, using a dash, an exclamation point — and only four words.
The test’s purpose is to demonstrate how the course will evolve.
Learning to write so that every word tells forces students to work much harder to deliver their writing’s essential meaning efficiently and effectively. Once this skill is mastered, they will be well equipped to produce successful creative writing pieces of any length.
Learning to make every word count maximizes one’s ability to articulate — to paint with words, which Mark Twain alluded to when he said, “The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug.”
Invariably, the tests stumps students, and I supply the answer: “Write tight — write right!”
To further emphasize that creative writing demands maximum economy and effectiveness of words, the students and I spend a few weeks studying the ultimate distillation of language: poetry. Great poems survive the test of time because every word must not only contribute to the work’s meaning, but also to its musical aspects — rhythm and meter.
One day, while discussing “Anyone Lived In A Pretty How Town,” by American writer E. E. Cummings, I pointed out that this beautiful little poem delivers perfectly the message of eternal love between a man and a woman, by distilling it to a mere 233 words, and does so as well as a novel containing 233,000 words.
“Is this your favorite poem?” a student asked. I answered that the Twenty-Third Psalm is my favorite because, whenever I need comfort, courage, and reassurance, no piece of writing provides them better.
Later, I asked myself, why does the psalm provide comfort, courage, and reassurance? Was it because, as stated in its first verse, the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want? Partly, yes … but not completely.
After more thought, I realized the answer is found in verse four: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil … Thou art with me….” Just knowing God is with me and that I need not fear … isn’t that the answer?
I wasn’t totally satisfied, but still certain that the answer was in verse four. After all, what else does one of God’s children need, more than knowing that his Father is with him?
“Thou art with me….” Those four words kept surfacing in my mind. Then, as I had instructed my students to do, I reduced the words to the least number needed to deliver the essential meaning, the only meaning any believer needs: Thou art.
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
