The Alchemy of Writing

Recently, a friend of mine, an artist by training, said that she had some stories she’d like to write, but that time had passed her by. Writing, she said, was a young person’s game. I disagree with that idea, but I didn’t say much in reply. I suspected the meaning behind her words was that she didn’t have the energy, that starting as a beginner with a new means of creative expression was too intimidating. Still, her words got me thinking: how can the young write anything good? They do, of course; I won’t argue otherwise, but I wonder how.

When I write, I draw on the fund of experience I’ve accumulated throughout my lifetime–a lifetime that is twice as long as some of my younger writer friends. While I write fiction, not memoir (at least not yet), this is the quarry from which I mine characters and events for my work. I transmute these things for my creative purposes, but their link to reality gives them a solidity and makes them relatable to the reader (I hope).

Perhaps there are young, sensitive, and hardworking souls who can find in their green conscious and unconscious selves the gold they seek. My early writing was nothing of the sort. Clumsy and pretentious, it never saw the light of day. I could not make something out of nothing; I had to wait on life to guide me; I could not cut from whole cloth.

For most of us, it’s a matter of using our creative Philosopher’s Stone to transmute the base substance of our lives to the more precious level of art. This alchemy is not easy, but with a storehouse of experience, it is possible.

While the creative spark can’t be taught, writers and artists can be guided in their work; they can, and must, learn their craft. Raw creative expression should be honed by exposure to those who have mastered their voice. Serious artists study other artists, and serious writers read the work of other writers. The process is not one of imitation. It is a question of using different perspectives to shine light on our shared reality. Seeing the world through others’ eyes helps us better understand what we see through our own. Such changes of perspective, combined with personal experience, are, in my opinion, essential for the creative person.

And for most of us, it’s a matter of using this Philosopher’s Stone to transmute the base substance of our lives into art. This alchemy is not easy to master, but it is possible. I must write from what I have experienced– material I can shape, shade, and develop to express what I want to the reader. And if I have done my job, perhaps the reader will share the experience with me. So, while I applaud twenty-four-year-old Stephen Crane for writing The Red Badge of Courage, or the twenty-three-year-old Carson McCullers for writing The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, I know I couldn’t have done it.