I really enjoyed reading this essay. Forche has some beautiful sentences, and I have tons of places in my book that are starred, underlined, or bracketed. I find myself often in awe in the midst of all of this--reading writers writing about creating creative nonfiction (yikes). I'm in awe not only from seeing the style and skill of each writer independently, but also from seeing time and again the same sorts of observations from many of the essays I've read. This passage is an example of one such recurring idea:
"This was a work happening with me which was not about me, having to do with attention rather than intention, a work which would eventually disclose itself as self-altering rather than self-expressive." (306)
The idea of the writer who learns from her own writing is not a new one. Gerrard talks about how sometimes we think we know where something is going, only to learn that we've got to abandon that plan and let the text speak for itself. It is a strange notion: that a text works on another level--one of paying attention to the world and letting it form rather than making it come about through force. It's definitely something to think about. It also seems like an insurmountable obstacle for people who have to have things finshed by a deadline. How does one get past this? By starting work earlier than usual? I guess that would be the only plausible solution, but even then, how can we be sure that the time will be right for what we are doing? How do we know how much distance we should put between the experience and the draft?
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