What I’m Reading Now

PeakWhen I drive I listen to books on CD (free from my local library). Dh listens to NPR. He recently heard this review  of PEAK: SECRETS FROM THE NEW SCIENCE OF EXPERTISE, by Anders Ericsson and Robert Pool. He ordered the book, handed it to me, and said, “I think this is your kind of thing.”

It is. Ericsson and Pool recall for us Malcolm Gladwell’s OUTLIERS, the book that famously insists on a 10,000 hour rule for mastery, and while they agree with some of its aspects, they also masterfully refute it. 10,000 hours is not magic. (In fact, they share one example of 200-hour mastery.)

Deliberate Practice is their mantra.

This chimes with lessons I’ve learned from my own practice — it chimes with advice from my dedicated writer and teacher friend Priscilla Long (advice you can now possess merely by purchasing her new book, MINDING THE MUSE).

Even though I’ve heard some of it before, the book managed to blow my mind. Ericsson and Pool have studied so-called geniuses for thirty years. They have gleaned history for the details that lay behind the myths of genius (including Mozart’s) and they have worked with experts in lab settings (particularly with people working on feats of memory). They re-examine phenomenons such as perfect pitch, and draw from the worlds of chess and track-and-field to demonstrate that inherent talent is often not for a particular field, but for the willingness to practice purposefully and persist in that field. Yes, body type matters, and maybe IQ matters (at least to an extent), but it’s more than that. Long story short, it has to do with recognizing the parts of one’s practice, learning to recognize in which parts one is deficient, correcting that deficiency, and moving forward. Having a teacher or coach helps, but as Ericsson and Pool show us, not all teachers and coaches provide this sort of insight. And when they do, they often concentrate their efforts on the top performers. So, guess who gets better? It isn’t because they are the top performers, but because they have been enabled to recognize their deficiencies, correct them, and continue practicing, deliberately…

Well, I’ll let you go to the NPR review (which is in part an interview, and linked to an excerpt).

PEAK’s authors do not so much address themselves to writing, but what they are saying can easily be applied to writing.

Exercising is a good analogy for writing. If you’re not used to exercising you want to avoid it forever. If you’re used to it, it feels uncomfortable and strange not to. No matter where you are in your writing career, the same is true for writing. Even fifteen minutes a day will keep you in the habit.  –JENNIFER EGAN

Practice, the right kind of practice, changes your brain. We know this. Ericsson and Pool propose that understanding this concept more fully, more in depth, can change the way we think about our own “innate” abilities, the way we acquire expertise, the way we teach children, and — no pressure here — the whole world.

New Issue of Gravel

 

My resolution to send out 50 packets of poetry this year, though it was stalled for a long time, is now sailing along. I believe I can claim 34 submissions as of today, and although only 6 poems have thus far found homes, one was nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology, and another was just nominated for the Pushcart — so, yay!

You can visit Gravel, which went live today, by following the link (the journal title), and from there you can click on my name to go to my individual poem, “Metamorphosis,” or access it from here.

Points of View

“It would be a poor sort of world if one were only able to read authors who expressed points of view that one agreed with entirely. It would be a bland sort of world if we could not spend time with people who thought differently, and who saw the world from a different place.”

-Neil Gaiman, from his introduction to “Rudyard Kipling’s Tales of Horror and Fantasy,” collected in The View from the Cheap Seats (Morrow, 2016)

Today was my last instructional day with my motley crew of English 101 students. Despite my pervasive sense that I was really too busy this quarter to teach a class, I enjoyed this batch of students. They were fresh and enthusiastic. Many of them were still in high school; no one was older than 19. Although they were uniformly very young, they were truly an assortment. They came from all over Snohomish county and from all walks of life — athletes, gamers, science majors, artists — and even represented a small range of ethnic backgrounds. They were conservative and liberal, radical and undecided. We managed to avoid any knock-downs over politics by agreeing that it was better that we didn’t agree on everything. If we all agreed 100%, then we’d be living in a sci-fy world — we’d be clones, or robots. It would be bad.

Neil Gaiman would agree (on that at least), though he’d probably want to explore the subject further by writing a dystopian book about it.

I told my students that I didn’t care how they voted. What I was there to teach them was how to be informed, how to read closely and widely, how to think, and how to write — which can be described as how to have a voice and how to use that voice effectively.

(And while we’re talking about Neil Gaiman, here’s his advice for how to behave in tough times: http://www.uarts.edu/neil-gaiman-keynote-address-2012.)

 

 

Your Job

“The purpose of being a serious writer is not to express oneself, and it is not to make something beautiful, though one might do those things anyway. Those things are beside the point. The purpose of being a serious writer is to keep people from despair. If you keep that in your mind always, the wish to make something beautiful or smart looks slight and vain in comparison. If people read your work and, as a result, choose life, then you are doing your job.” –Sarah Manguso