The eccentric Joey Mellen performed a self-trepanation in the Spring of 1970 in an attempt to enhance his consciousness. "He applied the drill to his forehead, but after half an hour’s work the cable burnt out ..... next day he set out to finish the job. ‘This time I was not in any doubt. The drill head went at least an inch deep through the hole. A great gush of blood followed my withdrawal of the drill. In the mirror I could see the blood in the hole rising and falling with the pulsation of the brain.' "
John Michell “Eccentric Lives and Peculiar Notions”.
Getting started can be a major problem, as many writers have found. When Jean Tangye began to write about her life at Minack in
Wendy hasn’t had to go to those extremes with me, but she certainly gets exasperated when I ask her to comment on the 50th version of Chapter 1 before I get started on Chapter 2. It’s very important to do this sort of polishing when preparing a synopsis and sample chapter for a publisher, and an amplification of the old journalist’s maxim always to put a piece aside after you’ve written it, even for half an hour, and then come back and edit it. It really blocks the path of progress, though, when it comes to writing the rest of the book.
Or does it? Most writers are singularly coy about how they go about writing (Somerset Maugham, for example, in his “Writer’s Notebook” doesn’t say a word about the subject), but Bertrand Russell tells a story which indicates that my approach might have its merits. I polish, not to improve my prose, but because every time I read what I have written I find things that I have glossed over rather than thinking them right through. Then suddenly something becomes unblocked and I can write subsequent chapters much faster through having put in all that thinking. Compare Russell:
“Having, by a time of very intense concentration, planted the problem in my sub-consciousness, it would germinate underground until, suddenly, the solution emerged with blinding clarity, so that it only remained to write down what had appeared as if in a revelation. The most curious example of this process, and the one which led me subsequently to rely upon it, occurred at the beginning of 1914. I had undertaken to give the Lowell Lectures at
Actually, I don’t believe him. I think it was the deadline that did the trick. I need the rest of his advice like I need a hole in the head.
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