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You can dance by yourself, and that can be
creative and fun, but it’s much more fun to dance with someone else. Why?
Because the pooled energy of two people working out a dance together is much
more than the sum of the parts. You find yourself inventing steps you didn’t
realize you could do. You have cartridges of adrenaline you didn’t know
existed.
It’s similar when you’re working with a
creative writing mentor. The concentrated energy of having a person focused on
your work for a sustained period of time produces results you would have a hard
time achieving all on your own. Just knowing that someone who is knowledgeable
about the field of literature is waiting for your new work is an enormous
incentive to do your best and even to exceed your own expectations for
yourself. That kind of directed concentration on all the details of your work
is a rare opportunity.
Use that energy you get from your mentor’s
attention and interest in your work to produce both more and better work than
you’ve done previously.
That doesn’t mean at all that you have to
imitate your mentor’s dance steps. You have your own dance as a writer, and
that’s what you’re developing. Your dance may in some ways mirror the steps of
your mentor’s work, or the concerns of your mentor’s work, but it also needs to
be your own, or you risk stepping on your mentor’s toes.
In what ways does your work have to be your
own? In the same way that your childhood is your own, or your ancestry is your
own, or your family history, or your cultural and religious heritage, or your
circle of friends, or your values. You have so much that is your own to draw
on, there is no need to imitate anything about your mentor’s work.
Your mentor can also step on your toes in this dance. A mentor can
overstep his or her authority, making comments that are too personal or too
much in the vein of asking you to write the way he or she does. But if that
happens, that’s your mentor’s problem.
Your job is to explore your own project as a
writer as deeply as possible, even more deeply than you thought possible. Your
job is to polish your work as thoroughly as possible, even more thoroughly than
you thought you were capable of. That’s where that attention from your mentor
gives you energy you didn't know you had.
Eventually, you need to move on to dancing
solo, to filling the stage on your own. But even when you’re dancing solo, your
mentor is still in your mind sitting front row center, watching every step, and
the first to lead the applause for you if you’re dancing the way you know you
can.
Later on, you can also regain some of that
dancing energy by collaborating with other artists, creating texts that can be
acted, illustrated, sung—or even danced.
Other recent posts on writing topics:
Working with a Writing Mentor: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5
How to Get Published
Getting the Most from Your Writing Workshop
How Not to Become a Literary Dropout
Putting Together a Book Manuscript
How to Deliver Your Message
Does the Muse Have a Cell Phone?
Why Write Poetry?
Poetic Forms: Introduction; The Sonnet, The Sestina, The Ghazal, The Tanka
Praise and Lament
How to Be an American Writer
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